


When Hell Freezes Over

by ScienceFantasy93



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur's starting to figure it out, Businessman Arthur, Coffee shop meetings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Merlin knows what he wants, Modern AU, Museum tour guide Merlin, Pining, Romantic Tension, Sexting, Sexual Tension, Thrown Together, dirty talking, no magic, planning a wedding, slow burn (kind of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScienceFantasy93/pseuds/ScienceFantasy93
Summary: He looks away and instead meets Merlin’s gaze. Merlin quirks an eyebrow like he’s daring Arthur to say something, to challenge him. Arthur desperately wants to. There’s just something about Merlin, from his messy black hair to that snarky smirk to that skinny body that is somehow so fucking graceful it shouldn’t be legal, that drives him up a fucking wall. And Arthur knows Merlin feels the same about him, knows it the way he’s aware that the sky is blue or that his father is an arsehole.Or: Arthur and Merlin can't stand each other. Then they get roped into helping Lancelot and Gwen plan their wedding.
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 118
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those ideas that trampled me like a fucking stampede and refused to move. This isn't exactly what I'd originally intended (this was only supposed to be a single chapter fic, and there was supposed to be a lot less fluff), but Arthur and Merlin had other ideas so here we are. Anyway, this is my first attempt at a modern AU for these two, so I hope it works!
> 
> Enjoy!

Arthur has officially decided: This is all Lancelot’s fault. There’s no question about it. It’s his fault, all his fault. He just had to go and propose to Gwen. Sure, he and Gwen have pretty much been the dream couple since their first year of university, not including a couple of semesters where Lancelot dropped out so he could “explore the world”. Sure, Gwen has probably been dreaming about marrying Lancelot for years. Sure, Arthur loves them both very much and just wants them to be blissfully happy.   
  
But.   
  
All this blissful happiness has come with a very big price. Namely, Arthur’s sanity at the hands of Merlin.   
  
So thank you, Lancelot. Thank you so very fucking much.   


* * *

The night Arthur’s fate is sealed is the night that Lancelot proposes to Gwen. He’s put a lot of thought and effort into the evening, having arranged a little dinner party with their closest friends at a five star restaurant here in London. They have a private chamber to themselves, and it’s a good thing that Lancelot’s job with a high-tech security firm practically pays in gold bricks, because this evening is not cheap. And that’s not including the diamond ring tacked on once the meal is over.   
  
Arthur leisurely sips a glass of red wine, listening to the conversations taking place around him. He’s not talking much, mostly because he’s tired after flying in from Japan the night before after finishing up a business trip at the Tokyo branch of the company he works for. He wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for how much he really does care about Gwen and Lancelot. Even though Gwen is more Morgana’s friend than his, he still loves spending time with her, bouncing ideas off her, and listening to her jokes.   
  
Morgana and Gwen are sitting across the table from him, laughing as Merlin, who’s sitting on Gwen’s other side, recounts some anecdote that happened at the art museum he works at. Arthur can’t possibly imagine anything entertaining taking place at an art museum. He likes art as much as the next guy – probably more, because his father brought him up to appreciate the finer things in life – but art museums just aren’t his thing. He tells himself that that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Merlin works at one, because that would just be ridiculous. Imagine brushing off a whole genre of museums simply because he can’t stand one measly tour guide.   
  
Dinner is finished, but before dessert can be ordered, Lancelot jumps to his feet. Arthur straightens up, suddenly alert. It’s time. The moment of truth. His stomach churns with nerves and anxiety, and he’s not even the one proposing.   
  
Lancelot moves around to Gwen’s side of the table. With fumbling fingers he pulls the velvet box out of the pocket of his trousers, and drops – nearly falls – to one knee. Gwen’s brown eyes widen in surprise as Lancelot manages to speak. And speak he does. Beautiful, eloquent words of love and adoration, and Gwen’s crying, but they’re tears of happiness which becomes even more obvious when Lancelot finally manages to choke out, “Guinevere Smith, will you marry me?”   
  
“Yes!” she practically screams, and hurls herself into his arms, kissing him so passionately that Arthur feels like an intruder.   
  
He looks away and instead meets Merlin’s gaze. Merlin quirks an eyebrow like he’s daring Arthur to say something, to challenge him. Arthur desperately wants to. There’s just something about Merlin, from his messy black hair to that snarky smirk to that skinny body that is somehow so fucking graceful it shouldn’t be legal, that drives him up a fucking wall. And Arthur knows Merlin feels the same about him, knows it the way he’s aware that the sky is blue or that his father is an arsehole. He’s not sure what exactly Merlin finds about him that’s so damn irritating, but he can hazard a couple of guesses. There’s his job with an international marketing corporation. The fact that his dad is Uther Pendragon, one of the richest men in the country. The knowledge that Arthur is as different from Merlin as is humanly possible. They’re complete opposites. And they’ll always be this way.   
  
Arthur refuses to rise to the bait, and instead simply raises an eyebrow back at Merlin. He looks back at the newly engaged couple, who are holding each other tightly and crying together.   
  
It’s Gwaine who breaks the moment. He clinks a spoon to his wine glass. Everyone looks around at him, expecting a toast, though Arthur knows better. “Who wants dessert?” Gwaine asks cheerfully. “Celebratory-like, you know.”   
  
Gwen lets out a startled laugh as she wipes at her face, and Lancelot declares that dessert sounds like an amazing idea. And so it’s settled. Dessert it is.  


* * *

“Thanks for helping me out, mate,” Lancelot says an hour later. Arthur is standing outside the restaurant for him, waiting for a cab. “Setting up the reservation for me and making sure we got the private room. I couldn’t have done it without you.” He claps Arthur on the shoulder and moves on to talk to Gwaine and Percival.   
  
Merlin snorts from a few feet away from Arthur as he kicks at a loose pebble. “More like he couldn’t have done it without the Pendragon name.”   
  
Arthur bristles at this. “So what if I used my family’s surname to make sure tonight was Lancelot and Gwen’s dream night? Why the fuck should it matter?”   
  
Merlin looks at him. He’s as tall as Arthur, even if he’s not as broad or as muscular. “No, it’s a nice thing you did,” he says. “Absolutely. I just find it interesting that your surname could gain us a private dining room at this place that the rest of us would never get otherwise.” That fucking eyebrow goes up again. Arthur knows what Merlin is implying and he doesn’t like it. Maybe this is one of the reasons he doesn’t get along with Merlin. Merlin always has some sort of commentary on how entitled Arthur’s family is. And a small part of Arthur secretly agrees with him. Morgana is Arthur’s half-sister, and she’s super close with Merlin. Nothing he says ever seems to bother her. But then again, Morgana rejected their family and their father years ago. She’s probably been feeding him information and egging him on, hoping to watch him rile Arthur up.   
  
“Great time to bring it up,” Arthur retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I help Lancelot reserve a lovely venue for the wedding, are you going to accuse me of getting preferential treatment?”   
  
Merlin considers it. “I’ll let you know when the time comes.”   
  
Arthur fights back a growl. “You do that, Emrys. You should check that on your RSVP card next to fish or chicken – to give Arthur shit or to not give Arthur shit.”   
  
“Oh, the answer is always to give you shit,” Merlin retorts with a cheeky grin. “No need to worry about  _ that _ .”   
  
“Thank God, now I can sleep peacefully tonight.”   
  
“I’d hate to disturb your beauty sleep. Heaven knows you need it.” His grin widens and he ducks away before Arthur can grab him. “And there’s my cab. Later, Pendragon. See you at the wedding.” He winks at Arthur before sliding into a cab along with Gwaine and Leon.   
  
“Ouch,” Morgana comments, coming up behind Arthur. “Would you like some ice for that burn?”   
  
“Shut up,” Arthur grumbles as he stuffs his hands in his trouser pockets. He hates to admit it, but Merlin got him good on that last one. And if the way Lancelot, Gwen, and Percival are all smirking, they had an audience for their bantering. Arthur had completely forgotten about his friends amid bickering with Merlin. He always did.   
  
As he slides into the back of the next cab, Morgana and Percival in tow, he recalls one time he and Merlin started arguing in the middle of a football game – Arthur’s favorite team versus Merlin’s. Their argument grew so heated that they had completely missed the ending and only tuned back in when the crowd erupted around them. Arthur’s team won that day, but he has never forgotten the effect that Merlin could have on him.   
  
Percival and Morgana are chatting away, but Arthur is deep in thought. It’s the first time he’s seen Merlin in months. And he knows that with their friends’ wedding on the horizon, it won’t be the last. He’s sure they’ll both be helping with the wedding planning and preparations. He just hopes that they’ll be able to stay far away from each other, because the last thing he needs is to get paired up with a snarky artist. Never mind the fact that Merlin has the deepest, bluest eyes he’s ever seen, or the most perfect cheekbones. He’s snarky and sassy and annoying as fuck. And Arthur wants nothing to do with him.   
  
Seriously.   


* * *

Two weeks later the group is gathered at Lancelot’s and Gwen’s flat, sprawled out around the sitting room. After two blissful weeks, Lancelot and Gwen have decided to get down to business – they’re ready to plan their wedding. Since neither has much family, their friends are more than happy to help them out. Morgana has already supplied Gwen with plenty of bridal gown magazines, and Arthur has messaged Lancelot a couple of links to possible venues. From what Lancelot said when they grabbed coffee together a couple days before, Merlin, Percival, Leon, and even Gwaine have begun making mild suggestions – though Gwaine’s suggestions revolve more around the stag party than the actual wedding.   
  
Lancelot passes Gwen a bottle of still water before joining her on the sofa, arm slipping around her. She smiles and leans into him comfortably. When they first got together their first year of university, the entire group would “aww” or wolf whistle when Lancelot would automatically reach for Gwen. Ten years later – god, has it really been that long? – it’s second nature for the group to make the reserved noise for them. And so comes the chorus of “aww”s from Arthur, Merlin, Percival, and Leon, and the wolf whistles from Gwaine and Morgana. They’re teasing their friends, but it’s also their way of reminding the engaged couple how much they’ve managed to make it through. They’re the first of the entire group to become engaged, and to each other at that. Arthur has never dated anyone from their group, and despite the fact that he likes both men and women and generally doesn’t have any trouble asking anyone out, he never seems to be able to keep a relationship afloat for longer than six months.   
  
Lancelot and Gwen ignore the teasing, though they’re both fighting back smiles. Gwen offers Lancelot a sip of her water, and he takes it.   
  
“So,” Gwen says as she turns back to their friends, “we think we’ve decided on a date for the wedding.”   
  
Arthur sits up a little straighter from where he’s positioned on the floor, one leg out with his arm draped over his bent knee.   
  
“We’ve decided on June 14 th ,” Gwen continues on. “We know it’s only six months away, but we really want a spring wedding. Plus,” she pauses, “there’s a venue we really want. It’s the Avalon Hotel, where we spent our first weekend trip together. We’ve checked, and they’re available for that weekend.”   
  
“Six months shouldn’t be a problem,” Morgana says with a shrug. “Arthur’s and my dad’s third wedding to our troll of a stepmother was planned in a month. And that thing was fancy as fuck.”   
  
Arthur grimaces at the memory of the lavish decorations and the exotic cuisine that half the guests felt was an insult to British food and the other half felt was cultural appreciation. He thinks of the ridiculously expensive wedding dress Catrina insisted on his father buying for her, which cost more than his flat’s rent for a year. He thinks of the designer stilettos, which she cried about during the reception because they were so damn uncomfortable. And he thinks of the way she whispered in his father’s ear when no one was looking, planting the idea that Arthur and Morgana disapproved of the marriage and that all they were interested in was their inheritance, that they no longer loved their father. He knows there were a few more things Catrina suggested to Uther, but Arthur would rather not remember them now, not when he’s sitting with his friends and sister and Merlin, planning their best friends’ wedding.   
  
Gwen shoots Morgana a grateful smile. “I’m so glad you think so. I was worried six months might be too little time.”   
  
“It’ll be just fine,” Morgana reassures her. “You know I’ll help you with your dress and the flower arrangements.”   
  
“I’m in charge of the stag party,” Gwaine volunteers, and there’s a lot of laughing at that. Percival and Leon agree to help out with that, which leaves Arthur and Merlin.   
  
“You’ll be our detail-men,” Gwen says to them cheerfully. “You’re both so detail oriented in your own ways, I’m sure you’ll spot cracks and holes that the rest of us have forgotten about.”   
  
And so that’s that. Arthur’s just glad he’s not going to have to spend too much time around Merlin. After all, if they’re just plugging in gaps, what are the chances that they’re going to run into each other regularly?   


* * *

_ Five months until the big day! _ _  
_ _  
_ It’s the third time Arthur has seen Merlin in a week. It’s a month into wedding planning and Arthur thinks that considering how early into the process it is, this is way too stressful. He and Merlin are sitting across the table from each other in Lancelot’s and Gwen’s kitchen, laptops creating a makeshift wall as they pore over various websites to help the couple. Every few minutes one of them calls Lancelot and Gwen over from where they’re in the sitting room, discussing wedding colors, to take a look at what they’ve come across, but other than that they’re quiet. In the interest of ensuring that the wedding planning is as smooth as possible, Arthur and Merlin have barely spoken to each other. Arthur likes it that way. He thinks.   
  
Arthur stares at the catering site he’s been studying. They’re a bit out of the couple’s price range, but their menu is fantastic. Still, he knows Gwen and Lancelot are on something of a budget. The Avalon Hotel is not cheap by any means, and there’s the fact that they want to take an extended honeymoon around the world. They both have excellent jobs, but there’s only so much they can spend before they start feeling the strain.   
  
“Out of curiosity, how much out of your price range are you guys willing to go?” he asks in his best offhand voice.   
  
“Why? What have you found?” Gwen asks.   
  
“Probably an Italian caterer located on the Riviera but willing to country-hop for a small fee of a few thousand pounds,” Merlin cracks.   
  
Arthur makes a very rude gesture at him and Merlin laughs. “Save it for your girlfriend.”   
  
“Or boyfriend,” Arthur retorts, and Merlin pauses for just a second.   
  
“Or your boyfriend. Your partner. Whatever.”   
  
Arthur doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t want to think about his lack of a meaningful relationship, not when he’s twenty feet from the happiest couple he’s ever met. And if he mentions that he’s single, he’s sure Merlin will make some sort of sarcastic comment such as, “I wonder why that could be?” or “No wonder, who wants to date a spoiled prat?”   
  
He will not give Merlin this power over him.   
  
By this point, Gwen has gotten up and is leaning over Arthur’s shoulder, peering at his laptop screen. She nods as she scans the menu. “It certainly looks delicious,” she agrees. “But they’re out of our price range. Do you think you might be able to find something a bit cheaper?”   
  
“I can definitely look,” Arthur assures her. “This was just an idea.”   
  
“Haven’t you heard?” Merlin asks Gwen from behind his laptop. “Arthur doesn’t  _ do _ cheap.”   
  
“It’s why I haven’t done you,” Arthur retorts before he can stop himself.   
  
A stunned silence follows his remark, and then Merlin grins. “Please. You’d be begging for it.”   
  
Lancelot sputters from his spot on the sofa.   
  
“I don’t beg.”   
  
“You would for me.”   
  
Arthur nearly knocks over his cup of tea as his elbow jerks in shock. They can’t possibly be having this conversation. They can’t be. But they are.   
  
He glances over his laptop and snorts. “I could snap you like a goddamn twig. If anyone should be begging, it’s you.”   
  
Merlin’s mouth twists into an insolent smirk. “Think about that a lot, do you?”   
  
Arthur thinks he hears Lancelot ask the retreating Gwen if he should get this on video, but he’s not focusing on his friends. He’s all about Merlin. “What? About me bending you over and having my way with you? About as much as you do.”   
  
He’s just done them in. Now they’ll both be thinking about that every time they see each other. It’s all they’ll be thinking about when they have to look at each other.   
  
“Right. So you never think about me on my knees for you,” Merlin replies, eyes focused on his laptop’s screen even as his cheeks flush apple red. “Got it.”   
  
And just like that, heat flashes through Arthur’s body, curdling through his blood and swooping through his lower stomach. He feels his cock stir in interest, and he fights back the urge to bite down on his lip, to give any sign that Merlin’s words are affecting him in any way. He wants to shift his hips, to palm himself through his jeans, but he knows Gwen and Lancelot will see. And so he scoots his chair a smidgen closer to the table instead, just so they can’t spot his burgeoning boner. They’re all stuck with what he and Merlin have done. All he can do for them is to keep them from finding out just how much his body is loving the idea of Merlin sucking him off.   
  
“Definitely not,” Arthur finds himself replying. He’s not even sure what the fuck he’s saying, just that words are coming out of his mouth and he has no idea why his brain is even approving them. “Just like you don’t think about me threading my fingers through your hair and tugging when you take me deep.”   
  
Yeah. Those are definitely not brain-approved words. Apparently he has lost all sense of control over what he says. What the hell is going on with him?   
  
What the hell is going on with Merlin?   
  
He peeks over his laptop, and sees Merlin’s cheeks blazing red hot. His tongue pokes out, trailing over his chapped lips. He wants that tongue to trail over his length, to tease him until Arthur really is begging to fuck his mouth. He wants to. He wants to, so very badly.   
  
It’s not going to happen. No way in hell.   
  
Merlin types something as he says, “And we both know you’ll only think about me naked and waiting for you when hell freezes over.”   
  
“Did we miss something?” Lancelot asks Gwen. “Am I the only one confused?”   
  
Gwen smiles, her eyes twinkling with amusement and something bordering on satisfaction. “You should have taken a video.”   
  
Arthur and Merlin look around at their friends. Gwen and Lancelot are watching them, clearly amused by the bantering. Arthur’s entire body is flushed with heat, and his cock feels as though it’s straining against his jeans. He wants to run away. He wants relief. He wants Merlin on his knees, wants to fuck that sarcastic grin right off his face. And he’s going to.   
  
No he’s not. He absolutely will not fuck Merlin. It’ll only happen when hell freezes over. He’ll make sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So right now I'm planning roughly 12 chapters for this fic. It might be a chapter or two less, and it might be a little more, but that's about where I think I'll end up. Not gonna lie, this story has turned into an excuse to indulge myself in modern-day Merthur bantering, sexual tension, pining, and fluff. 
> 
> Just a note: In my mind, this story takes place in 2021 (so I guess part of this is sort of futuristic) and there is no covid. Covid does not exist in this world. I want this to be a safe place for anyone. Seasonal colds and flus are mentioned later on, but once again, they're not covid. Just a heads up 😊 Also, I apologize if I end up using American slang or American terms by accident. Please let me know if I've used the wrong term, and I'll correct it 💕
> 
> Enjoy!

_Four months until the big day!_   
  
Arthur doesn’t see Merlin again for almost a month after that. He’s away on a business trip to Denmark, and determinedly uses the time to clear his mind. Sort of. He sure as fuck doesn’t wank off to the thought of Merlin deepthroating him every single night. He definitely doesn’t think about shoving Merlin up   
against the wall and just taking him bareback. Absolutely not. That would be completely absurd.   
  
Arthur can’t get their conversation out of his mind. He can’t get the mental image of Merlin splayed on his bed, naked and waiting for him, out of his head.   
  
He’s losing his goddamn mind.   
  
He hates the scrawny fucker. Hates him with a passion. Hates him every time he moans the son-of-a-bitch’s name as he cums from his own hand. Hates him for what he makes him think of.   
  
The wedding is four months away when Arthur finally returns to London. Once he’s gotten some sleep he calls Lancelot to see what needs to be done.   
  
“We still haven’t found a caterer,” Lancelot tells him. “Or a baker. Merlin’s been working on the baker bit, but he’s not having any luck with that. You might hook up with him – “ He breaks off awkwardly. “I mean – “   
  
“It’s fine, I know what you mean,” Arthur reassures him hurriedly. “Look, about what happened with that – “   
  
“It’s fine. If you and Merlin are sleeping together – “   
  
“We’re not. I don’t know what the fuck happened there. It was completely random, and it won’t ever happen again.”   
  
A long pause follows this statement, before Lancelot finally says a meek, “Okay.” It’s clear he doesn’t believe Arthur, and Arthur doesn’t blame him after what he was forced to witness in his own flat.   
  
“So, okay,” Arthur clears his throat, “I guess I’ll text Merlin and see if maybe he wants to team up on this. We might as well be working on the food together.”   
  
It’s the last thing Arthur wants to do, but after what he and Merlin put Lancelot through, he figures it’s the least he can do to make amends. Lancelot agrees to this idea, and with his stomach twisting like a snake, he pulls up the brief texting conversation between himself and Merlin.   
  
He has no real recollection of getting Merlin’s number. It seems like one day it just appeared in his phone. He knows what happened – Morgana input it one evening when all three of them were planning to go to the same uni party, just in case they got separated. In any case, he and Merlin have texted back and forth a handful of times in the last decade, at least once a year. It’s always about Morgana. This is the first time it’s not.   
  
_**Arthur** : Hey. I just talked to Lancelot and he suggested we team up on the food for the reception. _ _  
_ _  
_ He tosses his phone to the side and wanders into his kitchen, thinking idly of a late lunch. He fixes himself a sandwich and has just taken a bite when he hears his text notification. He returns to his sitting room and checks his phone. Merlin has texted him back.   
  
_**Merlin** : Yeah, alright. It’d be good to find a catering place that’ll do both entrees and dessert. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : My sentiments exactly. _ _  
_ _  
**Arthur** : We should probably do this in person. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : The food, I mean. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : Look, Pendragon, I don’t know why kind of weird-ass fetishes you have, but I prefer not to fuck the food. _ _  
_ _  
_ Arthur stares at his phone for a long moment, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to explode at the goddamn fucking _snark_ of the other man.   
  
_**Arthur** : Fuck you, you know what I meant. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : Knew you’d beg for me _ _😉_ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : That’s not begging, that’s demanding. Learn the difference, Emrys. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : You’re very demanding. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin**. I guess you learned from growing up in the Pendragon manor house. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : I will have you on your knees if you keep this up. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : Promise? _ _  
_ _  
_ Arthur gasps, fingers clenching tightly around his phone before he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.   
  
_**Arthur** : I’m not answering that. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : We need to get back to business. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : Right. You and your food fantasies. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : The only food fantasy I have involves cherries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. _   
  
Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did he type that? Why did he send it? What the fuck is possessing him to send such dumbfuck texts?   
  
On the bright side, he didn’t mention who the fantasy includes. Not that he’d ever consider licking whipped cream and chocolate sauce of _any_ part of Merlin’s body. Not in the least.   
  
Arthur sees the little typing bubble pop up at the bottom of the conversation thread, and a moment later a new message appears.  
  
 _**Merlin** : Sounds like a very *sweet* fantasy 😉  
  
_ _**Merlin** : I’m partial to a bit of chocolate sauce myself.  
  
_ Arthur can almost hear Merlin’s Welsh accent growing thicker through the text. After spending so much time in London, Merlin usually speaks with a hybrid accent. But Arthur has firsthand experience with an angry Merlin to know that when he’s feeling particularly strongly about something, his accent becomes more and more Welsh. And now he’s wondering if that happens when Merlin’s aroused as well.   
  
He really wants to find out.  
  
He can’t.   
  
He shouldn’t.   
  
He's losing his mind.   
  
Another text comes through. He opens it to find step-by-step directions to the sweets aisle in the Covent Garden Tesco. Another link comes through with online ads for chocolate syrup and whipped cream.   
  
_**Arthur** : Hah hah. Very funny  
  
_ _**Merlin** : You’re welcome! Wouldn’t want you to get lost  
  
_ _**Merlin** : No one likes a guy who’s unprepared  
  
_ _**Merlin** : Total mood killer  
  
_ _**Arthur** : I don’t have anyone to use the whipped cream and chocolate syrup on anyway.   
  
_ Fuck. Why did he say that? Now Merlin knows that he‘s single. It wouldn’t even be that big a deal, except that Arthur has always tried to keep his relationship status under wraps when it comes to Merlin. He just knows that now he’s going to get spammed with texts that say that the reason he’s single is because no one wants to go out with an arrogant prat, or that even money can’t buy someone willing to date him.  
  
His phone vibrates with a new text.  
  
 _**Merlin** : Ohhh.   
  
_ _**Merlin** : Me too  
  
_ _**Merlin** : #ForeverSingle   
  
_ _**Merlin** : Not by choice but.   
  
_ _**Merlin** : You know how it goes   
  
_ _**Arthur** : Yeah, unfortunately  
  
_ _**Arthur** : It’s hard to meet someone you connect with   
  
_ _**Arthur** : Who gets you and you get them.  
  
_ _**Merlin** : And who isn’t a total prick!   
  
_ _**Merlin** : Who’s kind and funny and not a complete dumbass  
  
_ _**Merlin** : And who’s good in bed.  
  
_ Arthur has to laugh at that one.  
  
 _**Arthur** : You’ve hit the nail on the head. _

_**Merlin** : _ _😀_ _It’s what I do_ _😉_ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : Seriously though, we should get back to business. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : We have a wedding to help plan. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : Fiiiine. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : But flirting with you is fun. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : I like when you lose all your propriety and pratness. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : I didn’t expect you to be so cool tbh. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : Thanks??? _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : 😁 _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : Want to grab coffee tomorrow before work? We can talk more then. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Merlin** : About the wedding, I mean. _ _  
_ _  
_ _**Arthur** : Yeah, that’d be great. _   
  
They make arrangements to meet at a coffee shop that manages to be convenient to both of them the next morning, and Arthur tosses his phone aside. He should stop thinking about the fact that Merlin is single. He shouldn’t care. And he tells himself he doesn’t. But the sun streaming through his sitting room blinds seems just a touch brighter than before.   
  
And then there’s the fact that Merlin said that flirting with him is fun.   
  
Yeah, Arthur’s not going to be able to get this conversation out of his mind for quite awhile.

* * *

Arthur is always a tad meticulous about how he looks. He buys clothes he knows fits him well. He goes to the gym five days a week and tries to eat mostly healthy. He takes care and pride in his appearance.  
  
But the morning following the texts, he goes through a primping routine so rigorous they ought to make a reality television show about it. He’s doing this because it makes him feel good about himself. Not because he wants Merlin to drool over him. Because how ridiculous would that be?   
  
He arrives at the coffee shop a few minutes early, and takes the time to order himself a latte and a breakfast sandwich, before sitting down at a corner table.   
  
Merlin shows up not a minute later. He waves at Arthur before placing his own order of food and drink, and plopping down across the table from Arthur with his mocha and croissant.   
  
“Morning,” he says cheerfully.   
  
“Morning,” Arthur replies. He’s already got his laptop booted up, and Merlin follows suit. He eyes Merlin’s pastry bag. “Is that your breakfast?”   
  
Merlin grins, and Arthur gets the impression that Merlin has been expecting that question. “Yes. If I’m going to make it through today I need a heavy intake of carbs and sugar.”   
  
“What’s so special about today?” Arthur asks idly before taking a sip of his latte.   
  
Merlin grimaces. “We’ve got a whole bunch of school kids coming through the museum today. Primary-age, mostly. A couple of secondary schools, too.”   
  
“Ouch.” Arthur can’t imagine having to deal with a hundred or more sugar-high preteens and teenagers, especially in an art museum where every single fucking thing is either old, expensive, or both. “That’s got to suck.”   
  
“Yeah, I hate when we have a whole bunch of kids coming in on field trips. I always leave with a massive headache, and all these tension knots in my back and neck.”   
  
Arthur bites his lip, thinking about how he wouldn’t mind helping Merlin relieve some of those tension knots.   
  
No. Bad Arthur. Very bad.   
  
“Sounds like a hot bath is in order after all that,” Arthur comments after a moment. He peels back the wrappings around his sandwich and takes a bite. “You have Epsom salt?”   
  
Merlin grins. “You sound like my mum. Yes, I have Epsom salt. And yes, I usually take a hot bath after dealing with the little terrors. A glass of wine usually accompanies me.”   
  
“Sounds like a perfect night after a shitty day.”   
  
“It is. What about you? What’s the first thing you do when you get back from those high stakes international business meetings?”   
  
This is not discussing the wedding, and neither of them have all day to just sit here and chat. But Arthur can’t bring himself to care somehow.   
  
“Make myself a decent cup of tea,” Arthur admits with something of an embarrassed laugh. “And then yeah, take a hot bath.”   
  
Merlin licks some of the sticky mocha syrup from his lips. “Don’t other countries have tea?” he teases. “I thought Japan pretty much figured out the whole tea thing.”   
  
“No, tea is something that exists all over the world. It’s just...I like my tea just so. Strong with a splash of milk and no sugar.”   
  
“Good to know. I prefer mine with three teaspoons of sugar, and very milky.”   
  
“You just like sweet stuff.”   
  
Merlin’s grin widens. “That doesn’t explain why I’ve been flirting with you.”   
  
“I just figured it was because of my boyish good looks and killer smile.” Arthur flashes a seductive smile at Merlin.   
  
“Oh, mystery solved. Now I can put it behind me.”   
  
Arthur laughs. “So, what have you come up with for puddings and wedding cakes?”   
  
“Here.” Merlin pulls up a couple of sites and passes his laptop to Arthur. Arthur looks over what Merlin has found, before bringing the websites he’s also been combing. They spend a few minutes in relative silence, before agreeing that they need to combine their efforts.   
  
“But I’m out of time,” Merlin grimaces as he checks his watch. “I have to get to the museum, it’s about to open.”   
  
“Oh. Right. Of course.” Arthur doesn’t want Merlin to leave. He doesn’t want to have to make his own way to work, because he knows he’ll be caught up all day with thoughts of their flirty bantering. He’s not sure what it is about Merlin, but he’s beginning to get a very strong inkling that he’s attracted to the other man. And that maybe he always has been. But that doesn’t explain why Merlin is flirting with him now. The two have never gotten along in the past. The only thing that’s changed is the fact that they have to work together now.   
  
“We should definitely get together again soon. Maybe this weekend?” Merlin suggests. He sounds borderline hopeful, as if his fingers are crossed for luck behind his back.   
  
“Definitely,” Arthur agrees. “Perhaps Saturday morning?” A crazy thought grabs him by the collar and won’t back down. “You could come over to my flat. I’ll cook breakfast.”   
  
“You can cook?” Merlin sounds stunned.   
  
“Yeah. I had to learn in uni. No personal chefs or anything to roast me a pheasant whenever I wanted it,” Arthur adds with a smirk.   
  
Merlin cracks up. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you make a joke about your family’s money!”   
  
“Oh. It is?” Arthur frowns.   
  
“Yes, it is. Normally you sound so serious about it, like being a Pendragon is either a curse or a duty.”   
  
Arthur tries to smile, but it comes out more of a grimace. “Sometimes it feels like both. Anyway, my flat? Saturday morning? Breakfast?”   
  
“Sure. I’ll see you then.”   
  
“Yeah. See you.”   
  
They part ways outside the coffee shop, and Arthur walks the rest of the way to his office building, whistling a cheery tune he’s not even sure he recognizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I mentioned in the notes for the first chapter that this story is turning out drastically different than my original plans for it. This is entirely Arthur's and Merlin's fault. Merlin pretty much hijacked the last chapter (the last bit was not supposed to happen, but it was so much fun to write that I kept it), and then I pretty much just gave up trying to control them in this chapter. So there was supposed to be a lot more of the love/hate dynamics, but as you can tell from this chapter, that's pretty much gone out the window. So maybe later on I'll do a flashback or something to their university days and explore that dynamic a little bit more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to post this chapter this past Saturday or Sunday, but I work weekends and my job seriously kicked my ass. Even though this story was constantly on my mind, I barely did anything with it 😭 I'm intending to update this once or twice a week, so semi-regular updates. 
> 
> There is so. Much. Texting in this chapter. A lot of texting. But it was fun to write, so I hope it's as much fun to read!
> 
> Enjoy!

The rest of the week creeps by. Arthur and Merlin text back and forth a bit, sending each other links to catering websites that the other has found, but other than that, there’s virtually no communication between them until Friday evening, when Arthur texts Merlin to confirm the time the next morning.   
  
_**Arthur** : So 9am tomorrow? Is that late enough for you? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Are you calling me lazy? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Yes, 9 is fine. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : You’re calling me lazy, aren’t you? That’s just rude. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Not calling you lazy, I promise. I don’t know if you’re a morning person or not. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : As much as anyone. I don’t want to be up at the fucking crack of dawn, but 9am is a reasonable hour. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : OK, cool. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Btw how was Tuesday, with the onslaught of little monsters? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I got through it. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Obviously. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Otherwise I wouldn’t be texting you. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : No one broke the museum, so that was good. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Do kids break the museum a lot? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : A surprising amount. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Last week a kid managed to spill coke all over a sculpture. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Idek how that happened because no one’s allowed to have food or drink in the museum. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Sounds like a smuggler. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Better watch out, next time they’ll get past security with a milkshake. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : A strawberry one! _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : That’d be the worst! _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : All over a Rembrandt! _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Better keep an eye out for those milkshakes. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Now I’m getting secondhand stress just from thinking about it. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Thanks ever so fucking much. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Lmfao! _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Sorry! Not trying to cause you stress, I promise! _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Now I have to go eat a bunch of chocolate to get back to my happy place. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Lmfao I’m so sorry. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Hmmph. So fucking rude. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : How can I make it up to you? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : … _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I can think of a couple of ways. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Okay? Name them. _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : No. I’m going to use this for emotional blackmail later on 😁 _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Suck on that, Pendragon! _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : I’d rather suck on something else, but if you insist 😉 _ _   
_ **_  
_ ** _**Merlin** : 👀 _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I mean, if you’re offering… _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I’m not going to turn you down or anything… _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Not if you’re offering a blow job  😉😅 _   
  
Arthur’s mouth goes dry. He licks his lips, trying to get his thoughts and his body under control, even as his reaction makes itself known. Thank fuck he’s in his bed, not out in public somewhere.   
  
_**Arthur** : No, you’re the one who’s going to get on your knees, not me _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Awww _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : 😖   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : You telling me you’ve never blown a guy before? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : No, I have _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : And maybe I’ll return the favor after you blow me _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** :  🤔   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I’ll think about it. _   
  
Arthur sets his phone aside. He has to face Merlin in the morning, and the last thing he needs is to text something else that’s going to make things weird and awkward between them. But before he can reach for the book he’s been reading, his phone buzzes again.   
  
_**Merlin** : I meant it when I said you’re fun to flirt with _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Just so you know _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : For some reason you’re different _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Idk, I’m probably not making any sense _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I’ll see you in the morning _   
  
Arthur types out a response before he can change his mind.   
  
_**Arthur** : No, I get it _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : You’re not what I remembered from uni _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : But somehow I think you feel the same way about me _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Yeah, I remember you being an arrogant prat _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : But you don’t seem like that anymore _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : I don’t remember acting like that _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : But if I ever acted like an arse to you, I’m sorry _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : The Arthur I knew from uni would never apologize _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : So you’re definitely different than you used to be _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I like you a lot more now than I ever did _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : #SorryNotSorry _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Understandable I guess _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : For the record, I like you a lot more now than I ever did in uni _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : #SorryNotSorry _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : 😂😂😂 _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : OK, fair enough _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Btw did I tell you about my food allergies _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : No… _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Yeah, OK _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : So I’m vegan, can’t eat gluten, sugar, or anything processed _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I can’t have nightshade vegetables _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Mushrooms and onions give me a really bad rash _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Most fruits make my face swell up _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : And leafy greens give me digestive problems _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Hope that doesn’t ruin your breakfast menu 😁 _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : So water for breakfast it is _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : 😁 _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : 😂😂😂 _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : In all seriousness, I’m not allergic to anything far as I know _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : So whatever you’re planning to make is fine _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Good to know, dollophead _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : What’s a dollophead? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : You, clearly _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Fine, clotpole _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Goodnight, dollophead _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Night, clotpole _   
  
Wondering where the hell Merlin got clotpole from, Arthur connects his phone to the charger, and stretches out in bed. He’s still hard as a goddamn rock, and before he can stop himself, he slides his hand beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, wrapping his hand around his aching cock. He closes his eyes as he pumps his hand, thumbing over the sensitive head. In his mind’s eye he can see Merlin, kneeling between his legs, those delicate, cherry-red lips engulfing his cock like a fucking pro.   
  
And when Arthur finally cums, it’s with Merlin’s name on his lips.   


* * *

The next morning Arthur wakes with the thought of  _ Merlin _ . He should probably feel guilty or ashamed for wanking off to the thought of Merlin blowing him. But he can’t bring himself to feel anything but satisfaction and something bordering on excitement at the thought of Merlin coming over to his flat for a couple hours.   
  
He stretches out and goes through his usual routine of checking his texts and email on his phone, before switching over to his social media and his favorite weather app. It’s a freezing early February morning, and Arthur is glad he doesn’t have to leave his flat.   
  
He knows Merlin’s flat is a bit too far to walk, so no doubt the other man will be taking the tube.   
  
He wants to send Merlin a text to tell him to dress warmly and to spring for a cab, but he doesn’t. Merlin is 28-years-old and can take care of himself, dammit.   
  
Arthur shoves his phone away and rolls out of bed.   
  
He showers and dresses in jeans and a simple gray sweater. At 9am exactly, there is a knock on the door.   
  
Arthur opens the door and finds Merlin standing there, in skinny jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. His black hair is still damp and messy from a shower, and his cheeks are a bright red from the icy morning.   
  
“You went out with wet hair?” seems to be the only thing Arthur can say.   
  
Merlin rolls his eyes. “You’re worse than my mum. Yes, Arthur. I went out with wet hair.”   
  
“Get your arse in here.” He grabs Merlin by the arm and hauls him into his warm flat, kicking the door shut behind him. He practically shoves Merlin down onto the sofa in front of the electric fireplace, and he cranks the heat up.   
  
“You really are bossy,” Merlin comments, peering up at Arthur through stupidly long lashes.   
  
Arthur hates him. He loves him. He wants him. He wants him to not fucking die from hypothermia.   
  
“If you die from frostbite, I’m going to have to figure out the catering arrangements by myself.”   
  
Merlin grins slyly. “I think I’ve grown on you. Admit it, Pendragon. You care about me.”   
  
This is so fucking ridiculous that all Arthur can do is gawp at him.   
  
Merlin stares back at him, grin widening at the knowledge that he’s caught Arthur out.   
  
“I - I - of course I don’t - don’t be ridiculous - “ Arthur manages to splutter out. This is put at odds when he grabs a blanket folded on the back of his armchair and drapes it around Merlin. “Here. Don’t freeze.”   
  
“Yeah,” Merlin smirks. “You don’t care about me  _ at all _ .”   
  
Arthur glowers at him, before biting out, “Tea or coffee?”   
  
“Tea, please. With - “   
  
“Lots of milk and three teaspoons of sugar. I remember.”   
  
Merlin looks pleased by this, and he tugs the blanket tighter around his shoulders.   
  
Arthur fixes them both mugs of tea and brings Merlin’s into him. “What the fuck possessed you to go out in below-freezing weather with wet hair?”   
  
“Well, it wasn’t that wet when I left my flat,” Merlin says with a grimace. “But it started snowing after I got off the tube.”   
  
“You should’ve taken a cab.”   
  
“Do you know how fucking expensive that would be?” Merlin demands. “No, I never take a cab unless I’m splitting the cost with someone else. The tube isn’t bad, it just means walking a bit.”   
  
“Mm.” Arthur watches as Merlin takes a sip of the sweet, milky tea. “Anyway, I’m going to get started on breakfast.”   
  
“Okay. I’ll pull up the websites we were looking at earlier this week.”   
  
Arthur has spent the last couple days mentally planning what to cook for breakfast. He even stopped at Waitrose after work yesterday to pick up some stuff. In the end, he decided to do a simple fryup, with eggs, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, and toast.   
  
While Merlin reads out the menus from the catering sites, Arthur dons an apron to protect his sweater and gets to work on breakfast.   
  
Twenty minutes later, he passes Merlin a heavily laden plate, and sits down next to him on the sofa. Merlin has shucked the blanket by now, and looks well thawed out. Merlin gives him a wide, toothy smile that he’s so far only reserved for Morgana and Gwen, and Arthur’s heart seems to twist in his chest like it’s trying to do the goddamn macarena.    
  
“Thanks,” Merlin says as he digs into his food. He pokes at the yolk of the fried eggs, letting it run over the plate. He swipes a piece of bacon through it and pops it in his mouth. His eyes widen and he lets out a groan of appreciation that has Arthur squirming. “Dammit, Pendragon. Where did you learn to cook?”   
  
Arthur smiles in satisfaction as he digs into his own breakfast. “I told you, I had to learn in uni. When Lancelot, Leon, and I were renting that flat above the fish and chips shop, we were doing the usual thing and living off of Pot Noodles and macaroni cheese. It was fine for a month or so, but I got tired of that. And I started making simple dinners, like steak and potatoes. I mean, I still can’t cook anything fancy, but I learned how to make lasagna and spaghetti bolognese. Stuff like that.”   
  
Merlin glances at him with a slight upwards crook of his lips. “You can make lasagna? Will you make me some?”   
  
Arthur laughs. “Sure, I guess I can do that.” He pauses. “I mean, if you want to come over for dinner one night, I can make it for you.”   
  
Did he just - yes. Yes, he did. He just fucking asked Merlin over for dinner.   
  
Is he high? Drunk? Both? He must be, because that’s the only possible explanation as to why he just invited Merlin over for dinner.   
  
But he finds he doesn’t regret it. He wants to spend more time with Merlin. He likes Merlin’s teasing. He likes their easy repartee. He likes that he and Merlin can see visible changes in each other, changes that maybe no one else has noticed. He likes that Merlin isn’t impressed by his family name or his family’s money. He likes Merlin.   
  
Hell must be getting hit with a fucking snowstorm right now, because those are three words Arthur has never thought he would think in the same sentence. He’s half-tempted to glance out the window and check for flying pigs.   
  
Merlin looks at Arthur for a long moment, before smiling for real. “Yeah, I’d love to.”   
  
“Excellent. Do you like garlic bread? I mean, of course you do. Who doesn’t like garlic bread? Garlic bread is incredible. It’s - “ He falls short when he sees the amused grin on Merlin’s face. He’s rambling. About garlic bread. He has hit a new low.   
  
“Yes, Arthur. I love garlic bread.”   
  
“Oh. Good. Awesome.” Arthur quickly shoves his toast in his mouth so he can’t say anything else stupid.   
  
Their breakfast together proves to be productive. They’re able to find three different caterers who meet their criteria and Gwen’s and Lancelot’s budget. Arthur emails the info to Gwen, and he and Merlin shut their laptops with satisfied sighs.   
  
“You know,” Merlin begins, “we’re going to have to help them put together a menu as well. Maybe we should meet up for coffee again on Monday morning so we can discuss that.”   
  
Arthur bites back a grin. “I’m starting to think you’re just looking for an excuse to see me.”   
  
“Well, you do make a mean breakfast.”   
  
“Not to mention an excellent cup of tea.”   
  
Merlin chuckles. “Can’t forget that.”   
  
“But yes, we should probably meet up for coffee on Monday. To discuss the menu.”   
  
“Strictly for that,” Merlin agrees with a glint in his eyes.   
  
“8AM at the same place?”   
  
“Perfect.”   
  
Arthur walks Merlin to the door but pauses. “Wait.” He retreats into his kitchen and comes out a couple minutes later with a thermos full of tea, just the way Merlin likes it. “For your trip back to your flat. I don’t want you freezing on me.”   
  
“Right, you need my help with the menu.” Merlin grins cheekily at him as he takes the thermos from Arthur.   
  
“This is for purely selfish reasons.”   
  
“Admit it, Arthur Pendragon. You care about me. Cheers!” He backs out of the flat before Arthur can protest, raising the thermos in thanks before hurrying towards the lift. Arthur waits until Merlin is safely in the lift, before closing the door. He closes his eyes and groans.   
  
Fuck. He is so  _ fucked _ .   
  
He peters around the flat for a bit, cleaning up the kitchen and doing a bit of dusting in his sitting room. An hour after Merlin has left, he grabs his phone and texts him.   
  
_**Arthur** : Did you get home? _   
  
Five minutes pass, and then ten. Just as Arthur is beginning to feel a bit worried, his phone buzzes with a text.   
  
_**Merlin** : Just got home _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : There was an outage on the tube _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Fan-fucking-tastic timing _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I’m freezing again 😭 _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Take a hot bath _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : That’s your answer for everything _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Because it’s the answer to everything _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Lmao I think you just want me naked and covered in bubbles _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : That hadn’t even occurred to me _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Liar _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I’m making a cup of tea now _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : And got my heat going full blast _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I’ll be warm soon _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : You need an electric blanket _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : When’s your birthday? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : It was last month _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : 1 January actually _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Capricorn ♑ _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Goddamn, how did I not know that? _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : I spent three years at uni with you _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : I should’ve known your birthday _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : We were always off on holiday. Nbd _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I can’t remember yours either. I know it’s sometime in October… _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : 11 October _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : ♎ Libra! _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : That explains you being all sensuous and shit _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : Though if you were a scorpio that’d explain it as well _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : I didn’t know you’re into astrology  _

_**Merlin** : Eh _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : My mum studies it some. My great uncle is really into it, so he's taught her some stuff _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I just think it’s fun _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Makes sense _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Seems like the kind of thing my sister would be into _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : She’s not. Too flaky for her I guess 🤷♂️ _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Yeah, Morgana has odd taste sometimes _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Odd interests too _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : Good taste in friends though _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : You’re totally talking about me 😁 _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : I feel so loved now  _ **_🥰_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** _**Arthur** : You’re a dork _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Arthur** : But a cute one _ _   
_ _   
_ _**Merlin** : You’re not so bad yourself, Pendragon 😉 _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd go ahead and post another chapter this week 😊 Work and life are still driving me up a wall, but this story is so much fun that it's hard to step away from it.
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely comments! It felt like they just came flooding in for chapter 3, so thank you 💕
> 
> Enjoy!

On Monday morning, Arthur breezes into Camelot Coffee, the coffee shop he and Merlin met in the week before. Merlin is already there, sitting at the table Arthur had claimed the week before. Arthur waves shyly at Merlin before approaching the counter for his usual order of a latte and breakfast sandwich. Once he has his food and his drink, he joins Merlin at the table.   
  
“It’s fucking cold out there,” he comments as he sits down. He’s still in his coat and scarf, and he has no plans to remove it any time soon.   
  
Merlin grins. “Almost as bad as Saturday morning.”   
  
“And you were only in a sweatshirt,” Arthur recalls.   
  
Merlin shrugs. “It was a warm sweatshirt. And I was on the tube most of the time. It was just a little chilly during the walk to and from the tube.”   
  
“And when the tube lost power on your way home,” Arthur reminds him.   
  
“I almost became a Merlin Freeze Pop.”   
  
Arthur has just taken a bite of his sandwich and nearly chokes at the idea of a Merlin Freeze Pop. Merlin looks very pleased with himself about this.   
  
“You probably turned the right colors,” Arthur retorts.   
  
“All blue and red and purple,” Merlin nods. “I thought I was going to freeze my ass off.”   
  
“I’m glad you didn’t.”   
  
Merlin grins. “I know.”   
  
Arthur hopes his wind-flushed cheeks aren’t turning any redder, even if he would welcome a tiny bit of warmth right now.   
  
“What’ve you got on at the museum?” he asks Merlin, desperate for a change of subject.   
  
“Only a couple of field trips today, thank god. We’ve got a new exhibit coming in today though, so I’m going to help the curator with that.” His eyes light up at the mention of the new exhibit.   
  
“What’s the exhibit for?”   
  
“Some paintings that the Nazis stole during World War II. They got recovered and restored, and we’re displaying them for a couple months.”   
  
“That sounds really cool,” Arthur comments. “Maybe if I get a chance I’ll pop in and see it at some point before the exhibit is over.”   
  
Merlin’s face breaks out in that huge, toothy grin that Arthur has noticed only happens when he’s with someone he really likes. “That’d be amazing.”   
  
“Then I’ll definitely make a point to stop by.” He glances at his watch and groans. “I have to head out. I’ve got a meeting at 9:30, sharp.”   
  
“Sharp, huh? So not 9:29? Not 9:31?”   
  
“Nope.” He pops the P. “Exactly 9:30.” He pauses as he looks back at Merlin. “Maybe we could grab coffee again tomorrow morning?”   
  
Merlin smiles again. “Yeah, I’d like that.   
  
“Tomorrow, then.”   


* * *

They meet up for coffee the next morning. And the morning after that. And the morning after that. Before Arthur knows it, he and Merlin have met up for coffee every weekday for a week and a half. And he can count on one hand how many times they’ve discussed the menu. He and Merlin have vaguely talked about when he’ll make lasagna, but they haven’t gotten around to figuring out an official evening. Arthur is currently taking a lot of work home with him, and Merlin is getting tugged every which way by their friends, who all have different opinions on everything that has to do with the wedding. Morgana and Leon have already argued about what color the flowers should be, and Merlin had to step in to remind them whose wedding it is, and who should decide what colors the fucking flowers should be.   
  
But they’re still seeing each other nearly every day. They text that weekend, the messages filled with flirty banter that leaves Arthur’s head spinning and his mind racing. He has wanked more times in the past nine days than he has since he was a teenager. And all he can think about is Merlin.   
  
The following Wednesday he walks into the coffee shop, biting his bottom lip. He’s got a business trip that’ll take him to the States for nearly a month, and he’s not sure how to tell Merlin or how Merlin will react. It’s possible Merlin will be glad to get a break from Arthur, but somehow he doesn’t think so.   
  
Merlin is already there, and once Arthur has his usual order he slides into the chair across from him.   
  
“Morning,” Merlin says with a cheerful grin.   
  
“Morning,” Arthur replies, though it’s with a small frown.   
  
“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks immediately, his own brow furrowing with concern.   
  
“Nothing. It’s - well, I forgot about something but got reminded about it last night as I was leaving work.”   
  
“What is it?”   
  
“I’m leaving on Friday for a business trip in the States.”   
  
“Oh.” Merlin frowns too. “How long?”   
  
“Three weeks.”   
  
“So almost a month.”   
  
“Yeah. This isn’t going to be the only business trip. I’ve got one coming up in late March, and another in May.” He’s not sure why he’s telling Merlin this. Maybe he just wants Merlin to understand that he’s not always going to be around for stretches of time. That his job takes him across the world sometimes. That just because he’s London-based doesn’t mean he’ll always be  _ in  _ London. He won’t always be around.   
  
Merlin picks at his scone, very focused on the blueberries he’s tearing out of the pastry. “I see,” he says softly.   
  
“But we can still - we can still text, right? Maybe talk on the phone? Facetime?” Arthur voices the ideas hopefully, because he can’t bear the thought of not getting to talk to Merlin at all for three weeks.   
  
Merlin smiles just a smidgen. “Of course. I expect a text the second your plane lands in - where are you going to be?”   
  
“New York City.”   
  
“Oh. That’s not so bad. And they’re only three hours behind us. The time zone, I mean,” he clarifies quickly. “Yeah, I definitely expect texts and phone calls at the very least.”   
  
Arthur smiles in relief. It’s so strange that a month ago he and Merlin despised each other, and now they’re broken up at the thought of being apart for three weeks.    
  
It’s truly amazing what can happen in such a short period of time.   
  
They finish up their breakfast and coffee, chatting lightly. Merlin asks him questions about where he’s staying, what plans he has outside of meetings, and whether or not he’ll play tourist while he’s there. Arthur promises to send pictures of the city to Merlin.   
  
They agree to have one last coffee the next morning, and then go their separate ways for the day.   
  
As promised, they meet up at Camelot’s Coffee the next morning. A shopping bag sits on the ground next to Merlin’s feet, but Arthur doesn’t think to ask. It’s only when Merlin says, “I got you something,” that Arthur realizes it’s not a supermarket bag.   
  
Merlin passes the bag over to Arthur, and Arthur reaches in, pulling out a -    
  
“Is this a baseball cap?”   
  
“Yes,” Merlin says with a laugh.    
  
“‘Murica? You got me a baseball cap with  _ ‘Murica _ on it?”   
  
Merlin’s eyes crinkle at the corners with sheer entertainment. “I wanted you to fit in, Pendragon. Don’t want you getting mugged or something.”   
  
Arthur has to laugh. He slaps it on top of his perfectly coiffed hair and strikes a pose. “How do I look?”   
  
“Like you’re a businessman with great taste in hats.” Merlin holds up his phone. “I’m getting a pic.”   
  
“Ugh. Fine.” With a long suffering sigh Arthur drops his chin into his hands and stares right at Merlin while he snaps the pic.   
  
“Perfect! This is definitely going to be my profile pic for you on my phone.” And sure enough, he taps the  _ add photo _ icon on Arthur’s profile, and uploads the picture. “There. Very sexy.”   
  
Arthur rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”   
  
“You love it.”   
  
All too soon it’s time for them to head to their respective jobs.   
  
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Merlin asks Arthur as they walk out of the coffee shop.   
  
“The flight leaves at 1am tonight.”   
  
“Oh. And you still have to go into the office?”   
  
“Just to wrap up a couple things. I’m leaving early so I can pack.”   
  
“Good.” Merlin turns to Arthur. “You know, a hug wouldn’t be amiss.”   
  
Arthur blinks, and his cheeks flush. “Oh. No, I suppose it’d be okay.”   
  
“What’s the matter, Pendragon? Scared once you touch me you’ll never let go?”   
  
“No. Of course not.”   
  
Merlin laughs. “Hug me, clotpole.”   
  
And so Arthur does, wrapping his arms around Merlin. Merlin is wiry, but still skinny. He can feel every bone as Merlin presses his body against Arthur’s. Arthur tightens his hold, thinking that Merlin hit the nail right on the head, so to speak. He never wants to let Merlin go. He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to whisk Merlin back to his flat and make love to him until they’re both so breathless and exhausted that neither one can think about work or leaving the country or even the wedding that seems to make up the background of their lives. He knows if he ever gets Merlin into his bed, he’ll never want to let him go.   
  
Merlin rests his cheek against Arthur’s, just for a breath, and then he pulls back. Arthur thinks Merlin’s blue eyes look a bit brighter than usual, like maybe he’s blinking back tears. But when Merlin speaks his voice is steady. “I guess I’ll see you in three weeks.”   
  
“Yeah,” Arthur says softly. “Three weeks. Maybe we can do lasagna when I get back.”   
  
Merlin smiles. “I’d like that. Have a safe flight, Pendragon.”   


* * *

Thankfully, Arthur does in fact have a safe flight. All things considered it’s fairly smooth, and they land at JFK International Airport right on time. The second Arthur is out of the plane and in the airport, he texts the three people he knows are waiting for it: Morgana, Lancelot, and Merlin. He’ll text Percival, Leon, and Gwaine later, once he’s settled in his hotel.   
  
It’s 2pm back in London, and so he gets texts back relatively quickly, first from Lancelot, then Morgana, and finally Merlin.   
  
After claiming his bags, Arthur catches a cab to his hotel. He doesn’t have a meeting until tomorrow morning, and he’s exhausted. Watching Netflix and eating his weight in hotel vending machine food sounds like an ideal rest of the day. And when Merlin asks him what he plans to do, that’s his response.   


* * *

The next week drags by. The meetings are beyond tedious, and there seems to be very little time to actually go out and explore NYC. He’s bored out of his mind, but there seems to be almost no time for him to text or call anyone, much less get into a bantering session with Merlin. He misses it something awful.   
  
On Saturday he’s finally able to break free of long, boring meetings. He uses the free day to walk around Central Park, snapping pictures and taking videos on his phone. He sends a couple of them off to Merlin, who responds with heart-for-eyes emojis.   
  
Sunday morning he wakes up earlier than he expected to the sounds of traffic below his hotel room window. He stretches out and checks the time. 7am. He slept like a log the night before, and he feels better than he has all week. He puts in a request for room service and, before he can change his mind, he grabs his phone off the nightstand and brings up Merlin’s contact info. He hits the green call button.   
  
His stomach cramps nervously as he listens to the ringing on the other end. What if Merlin doesn’t pick up? He could be in the shower or on the tube or in a cinema. He could be (Arthur’s heart constricts tightly in his chest) on a date.   
  
And then Merlin picks up. “Took you long enough! I’ve been waiting for you to call for the past week!”   
  
Arthur lets out a laugh, halfway between relieved and amused. “I’ve been busy in meetings constantly.”   
  
“Not yesterday you weren’t,” Merlin retorts.   
  
“No,” Arthur admits. “But Central Park was lovely. I really needed some fresh air after being cooped up in an office building all week.”   
  
“How’s the trip going so far?”   
  
“It’s just another business trip. This one’s particularly tedious though.”   
  
“How’s that? NYC not metropolitan for you?” Merlin teases.   
  
“Yeah, there’s not nearly enough traffic,” Arthur quips before laughing. “No, it’s just the reason behind the trip. It’s marketing shit, nothing too interesting. How’s work going?”   
  
“Same old, same old,” Merlin says, and Arthur can imagine him shrugging. “The new exhibit is really popular, people have been flocking in to see it. It’s been fun telling people the history of the paintings.”   
  
“When I come in will you tell me the history?” Arthur asks, stretching out languidly.   
  
“Of course. It’d be my pleasure.”   
  
Arthur smiles. “What’re you up to?”   
  
“Watching Netflix.”   
  
“Anything good?”   
  
There’s a long pause, and then Merlin whispers, “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”   
  
“I promise.”   
  
“ _Bridgerton_. I’ve been binge-watching it since yesterday and  _ I can’t stop _ .”   
  
Arthur laughs. “I’ve heard it’s really addicting. I haven’t seen it yet, though.”   
  
“When you come back we should definitely watch it together.”   
  
“Yeah, I’d like that.”   
  
“Cool. I’m looking forward to it.” Merlin pauses. “So, what are  _ you  _ doing?”   
  
“Lying in bed in my hotel room and talking to you.”   
  
“Naked?”   
  
“No,” Arthur chuckles.   
  
“Oh. Well, you should be.”   
  
“Sorry to disappoint you.”   
  
“So what are you wearing?”   
  
“Just pajama pants.”   
  
“Shirtless?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“You could send a pic if you want.”   
  
Arthur lets out a belly laugh. “I guess I could.”   
  
“Please?” Merlin says sweetly. “Just so I know what your hotel surroundings look like. You know, since I’ve never been to a New York hotel before.”   
  
“I’d hate for you to have to use your imagination the next time we talk on the phone.” And so Arthur puts his phone on speaker and snaps a selfie. He sends it to Merlin.    
  
A moment later there’s a sharp inhale of breath down the line. “Oh shit,” Merlin whispers, more to himself than to Arthur. “You work out, huh?”   
  
“A bit.”   
  
“Yeah, I can tell.”   
  
“You could send me a pic, too,” Arthur says to Merlin.   
  
“I’m not half-naked.”   
  
“I don’t care.”   
  
“Hang on.”   
  
A few moments later Arthur’s phone buzzes. He hurriedly swipes to Merlin’s new text and brings up the pic. It’s just a simple selfie of Merlin lounging on his sofa in a t-shirt and joggers, but Arthur stares at it as though it’s his lifeline.   
  
“It’s adorable,” Arthur says after a breath or two. “You’re adorable.”   
  
Merlin lets out a little puff of embarrassment and pleasure. “Thanks.”   
  
A knock on the hotel room door signals that Arthur’s food has arrived. “Shit, room service is here.”   
  
“I’ll let you go, then,” Merlin says.    
  
“I’ll call you later,” Arthur offers.   
  
“You better, Pendragon.”   
  
They hang up, and Arthur shoves off the covers, padding to the door. His stay in NYC is starting to look up just a little bit.   


* * *

True to his word, he calls Merlin around 5pm, so that it’s not too late in London. He and Merlin chat for a little while, but they can’t talk for too long, because Morgana and Gwen are coming over with a pizza and beer. They talk until the girls get there, and then hang up before Merlin opens the door to them. Neither of them says what they’re thinking aloud - that if Morgana and Gwen discover that Arthur and Merlin have been talking and flirting for the last couple weeks, they’ll never hear the end of it.   
  
The next morning Arthur wakes to a text from Merlin, sent at 8am GMT time. Which means it was 5am for Arthur, whose phone had been set to  _ do not disturb _ . Luckily the text isn’t important.   
  
**_Merlin_ ** _ : Cold pizza for breakfast is fucking amazing! _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Merlin_ ** _ : Oh shit, sorry, I just remembered the time difference! _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Merlin_ ** _ : Go back to sleep _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Arthur_ ** _ : It’s fine, my phone was on do not disturb. _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Arthur_ ** _ : And cold pizza for breakfast is the bomb. _   
  
Because it’s nearly 10am in London on a Monday morning, Merlin is most likely at work, so Arthur knows he won’t get a response for a couple hours.   
  
Instead he gets up, showers and shaves, and throws on the clothes he laid out the night before. He grabs breakfast from a nearby cafe and makes his way to his first meeting of the day.   
  
The next two weeks fall into a pattern. Arthur has his meetings during the day, and he and Merlin text back and forth when they can. If he gets out of his meetings early enough and doesn’t have a business dinner to get to, he calls Merlin once he’s back in his hotel room. They chat about their days, and, as the days progress, they begin to dive in a bit deeper. Merlin tells Arthur about growing up in the Welsh countryside, and Arthur describes growing up in the Pendragon manor. He learns that Merlin submitted paintings and sketches to art competitions around the UK, and that he got a scholarship to UCL. Arthur explains about his decision to go to UCL instead of Oxford or Cambridge, both of which his father had considered much more acceptable choices.   
  
“He didn’t want you moving to London?” Merlin asks. It’s Tuesday evening and Arthur knows that Merlin is tucked all cozy into his bed. For his part, Arthur is lounging against the bed cushions.   
  
“No. Which was ridiculous, because I studied what he wanted me to. I just didn’t end up going into the career he wanted me to.”   
  
“What’d he want you to do?”   
  
“Take over as CEO for Pendragon Inc. It’d be a good job, but it’s not what I wanted to do. At least I get to travel with my job, and I can come up with marketing campaigns for products that I’m passionate about. I’d much rather do that then sit in a high rise office in London any day.”   
  
“Does he like you being in London?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Arthur admits. “I haven’t spoken to him since he married Catrina.”   
  
“That sucks, I’m sorry.”   
  
“Do you get along with your family?”   
  
“It’s just my mum, my great-uncle, and me, but yeah, I get along with them. I talk to them on the phone a lot, and I try to visit them at least once a month. It’s just been harder lately, what with the wedding…”   
  
“I feel bad that I haven’t really been able to help out with finding a suitable caterer,” Arthur mentions. He knows it’s not really his fault, but he feels like he’s left Merlin to do all the heavy lifting on something that’s supposed to be a joint project.   
  
“It’s fine. I gave Gwen and Lancelot our suggestions, and I think they’ve just about got it decided. To be fair, I didn’t realize what a big deal choosing a caterer could be.”   
  
Arthur laughs. “For some people it’s a work of art.”   
  
“I guess so.” Merlin pauses before adding, “Once they’ve officially decided, they’re going to have us help them with the menu.”   
  
“What are their requirements?”   
  
“They want the traditional chicken or fish, of course, but they want other stuff. Stuffed mushrooms, roasted potatoes, some sort of asparagus thing I’ve never even heard of.” Arthur can almost see Merlin shrugging down the line. “We’ll get it figured out. Right now Gwen’s all in a tizzy because of the Avalon Hotel, where they want to hold the wedding.”   
  
Arthur rubs his forehead. “What’s going on with the hotel?”   
  
“Supposedly the place is booked practically solid for the month of June. And Gwen’s freaking because it doesn’t look like they’ll be able to get a booking for the 14th.”   
  
“That does throw a crimp in her plans,” Arthur agrees. He loves Gwen, and he knows that under most circumstances she’s fairly calm and level-headed. He also knows that this isn’t most circumstances.   
  
“Yes. But here’s the kicker. They had a sudden cancellation for the weekend of the 14th of  _ May _ . Morgana convinced Gwen to put a deposit down to hold her spot. It’s a free cancellation up to thirty days before, so if Gwen changes her mind and decides that we can’t throw this wedding together by May, she can get her money back.”   
  
“Shit,” Arthur breathes out. “So the wedding has been moved up a month? Why didn’t anyone tell me? When was this decided?”   
  
“Just last night. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to worry you, I know how busy you’ve been.” Merlin sounds so apologetic, as if it’s entirely his fault that this news didn’t get passed onto Arthur.   
  
“It’s fine. Someone else could have texted or called,” Arthur points out. “It’s not your responsibility to keep me updated on what’s going on with the wedding. It’s not like it’s  _ ours _ .”   
  
“Right. Though I am beginning to feel like this wedding is becoming my baby.”   
  
Arthur chortles. “Yeah, I can see why. I’m very invested in the outcome, to be honest.”   
  
“I mean, it’s our friends’ wedding. But…”   
  
“We care about what happens, how it turns out. Of course. It’s natural.”   
  
Another long pause, and then Merlin says softly, nearly whispering, “I miss you. I want you to come home, to London.”   
  
Arthur’s heart seems to twist in his chest. Merlin misses him. Merlin  _ misses  _ him.   
  
“I miss you, too,” Arthur admits, just as softly. “I can’t wait to come home.”   
  
“I miss our coffees together in the morning. I like starting my day off with you.”   
  
Arthur blinks. His mind immediately jumps to a different scenario where they start their day off together - in bed, all naked limbs and bare skin and soft lips tangled up together. He yanks himself out of that fantasy so that he can reply, “I like starting my day off with you, too. Sometimes it’s the best part of my day.”   
  
“Yeah?” He can definitely hear the smile in Merlin’s voice. “Mine, too.”   
  
Arthur wishes desperately that he is in Merlin’s flat with him right now, the other man lying in his arms as he runs his fingers through the thick, dark hair. It sounds like the perfect end to a long day of boring, tiring meetings. He’s sure Merlin is often sore from being on his feet all day and standing on hard floors. Arthur remembers when he worked a part time job in a shop while in university, he’d leave his shifts with stiff shoulders, an achy back, and feet that felt bruised and blistered. If he was in Merlin’s flat right now, he could run a hot bath for him. He imagines that they would slide in together, Merlin’s back plush against Arthur’s front.   
  
“Anyway,” Arthur continues on determinedly, once more pulling himself out of that fantasy, “I’m flying back on Thursday, so I’ll be back on Friday.”   
  
“What time?” Merlin demands.   
  
“I won’t get in until around 10am, I think. So I won’t be able to meet you for coffee.”   
  
“Damn it,” Merlin grumbles. “I guess there’s Monday morning.”   
  
“Definitely,” Arthur says. “I fly out at 5pm on Thursday.”   
  
“Not GMT time?”   
  
“No, sorry.”   
  
“It’s okay, not your fault. Maybe we could do something on Saturday? Breakfast again? If you’re not horribly jetlagged, I mean.”   
  
“Breakfast would be fantastic,” Arthur assures him.   
  
“How about I cook this time?”   
  
“That would be great.”   
  
“Excellent. 9am again?”   
  
“Perfect.”   
  
They chat for a little longer, but before long Merlin is yawning every couple minutes, so Arthut tells him to go to bed. They big goodnight and Arthur plugs his phone into his charger. He flashes back to his fantasy, of sinking into hot water and soapy bubbles with Merlin, of having the freedom to stroke his hand over Merlin’s bare skin.   
  
Before he knows it, he’s shoving his pajama bottoms down and his hand is wrapping around his hardening cock. He closes his eyes as he loses himself in the fantasy of Merlin sinking down onto him, all wet and soapy and slippery and so fucking perfect Arthur thinks he’ll fucking die. He has just enough coherence to grab a handful of tissues from the box on his nightstand to catch the cum, before he sinks back deep into the idea of touching Merlin, kissing Merlin, fucking Merlin.   
  
It’s all he wants. And he’s beginning to think that maybe it’s going to happen after all.   
  
Fuck, he hopes so.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this chapter is pure fluff. I loved writing this chapter, it was probably one of my favorites. It's just pure, tooth-rotting, Merthur fluff.
> 
> Due to the nature of this chapter, I'd just like to remind you guys that Covid does not exist in this story, so the stuff that goes along with it does not exist either. The illness mentioned in this chapter is a garden variety cold, and totally harmless except for the annoyance factor. Just so you guys know 😊
> 
> I meant to get this posted yesterday, but just never got around to it.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! 💙💖

_ 2.5 months until the big day! _   
  
The flight back to London isn’t nearly as peaceful as the flight to New York City was. There are two babies aboard the plane, and if one of them isn’t crying, the other one is. Children scream and holler at one another, and the exhausted parents are hoarse and nearly sobbing after trying to get their offspring to behave in close-quarters with a couple hundred other people.   
  
His seatmate seems to have a very bad case of allergies, which makes absolutely no sense on a goddamn plane, unless he’s allergic to other people. All Arthur knows is that this fucker is coughing and sneezing all over the damn place and - oh shit. This arsehole might have a cold.   
  
Arthur has always been something of a germaphobe. And so he’s well-prepared for this particular situation. He digs into his carry-on bag and pulls out Lysol, antiseptic wipes, and his favorite gloves, which work well with touch screens such as his tablet and phone. His seatmate glares at him when Arthur begins lysoling their shared area, but Arthur just gives him a huge smile and a, “Get well soon, mate.”   
  
Arthur wipes everything down, including his hands, before shoving his fingers into his gloves. And when he gets up to use the tiny-ass little restroom an hour later, he pops enough Emergen-C to stave off pretty much anything short of malaria. He returns to his seat and settles in for the rest of the flight.   


* * *

Due to some miscommunication, the plane doesn’t land at Heathrow until nearly 11am. By that time Arthur is exhausted, cranky, and stiff from sitting for so long. It doesn’t help that he’s spent pretty much the entire flight trying not to breathe in the same air as his seatmate.    
  
He disembarks from the plane with a strong sense of relief, and pulls out his phone. Once he’s shifted it from airplane mode, he sends texts to Merlin, Morgana, and Lancelot, to let them know that he’s landed safely. They’re all at work so he’s not expecting anything back immediately.   
  
Arthur catches a cab back to his flat, where he enjoys a steaming hot shower, beautifully refreshing after that flight. As he showers, something bordering on a plan begins to form. He’s tired but knows sleeping is a bad idea, because it’ll fuck up his sleep schedule even more than it already is.   
  
Once he’s dressed, he grabs his wallet, keys, and phone, and shimmies into a thick sweatshirt, before leaving his flat.   
  
He knows roughly where the art museum is. Camelot Coffee essentially makes up the halfway point between Merlin’s flat and his, and the art museum is on Merlin’s side of the coffee shop. Arthur wishes he could nip in to get himself a coffee, but there are no food or drinks allowed in the museum, even though apparently school children keep smuggling them in. And so Arthur walks past the coffee shop and makes his way to the museum. He pays the entrance fee and gets a map. He wants to see the infamous Nazi art collection. But more than that, he wants to see Merlin.   
  
Under normal circumstances, Arthur would never do this. Showing up unannounced at someone else’s job, especially one where they’re constantly surrounded by people expecting a specific service, is not something Arthur does. But maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s been three weeks since he’s last seen Merlin in person, but Arthur finds himself walking through the galleries until he spots the messy black hair and slender figure.   
  
Arthur pauses for a moment, his heart beating like a drum against his ribs. And then Merlin looks away from his tour group and his blue eyes meet Arthur’s. And suddenly it’s so very hard to breathe.   
  
Merlin says something to his tour group before nearly dashing across the gallery to Arthur. The next thing Arthur knows, he’s wrapped up in long, bony limbs, and Arthur’s hugging Merlin back. It’s tricky to say who is clinging to who, because neither seems to want to let the other one go.   
  
“You made it back,” Merlin murmurs into Arthur’s hair.   
  
“Just barely, but I did.”   
  
Merlin pulls back, but his fingers entwine with Arthur’s. He looks Arthur full in the face. “You’ve lost weight,” he declares. “What were they feeding you over there, moldy vegetables and rotten meat?”   
  
Arthur scoffs at this. “I was staying in a four-star hotel, not an 18th century prison. I just didn’t eat a lot during the meetings.”   
  
“Well, that’s changing,” Merlin informs him. “Tomorrow I’m fixing you a proper fry-up.”   
  
Arthur smiles. “That sounds perfect.” On a sudden impulse, he lifts Merlin’s hand to his lips. “Go back to your tour group. I really just meant to stop in and say hi.”   
  
“I’m due for my break once I’m done with this lot,” Merlin tells him. “Stick around? We can grab coffee and sandwiches in the museum cafe.”   
  
Arthur agrees, and Merlin graces him with that crazy-happy toothy smile. He nearly skips back to his tour group, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure that Arthur is still in sight.   
  
Arthur ends up trailing along after the group, listening to Merlin telling the group about the works of art. He sounds very knowledgeable and professional, and when a member of the tour group asks him a question he answers it thoroughly yet concisely. He shares little anecdotes about the artists, and points out his favorite pieces of art.   
  
They come to the infamous exhibit, with the paintings that Nazis kept hidden for more than three-quarters of a century. Arthur shivers at the side of the gilded frames that must once have been gleaming, but are now permanently stained from being hidden away in dark, dirty cubbyholes.    
  
Merlin points out each painting individually, explaining where this one was found, or who was believed to have snatched that one up eighty years before. He goes on to say that quite a few pieces of art have yet to be recovered, and are believed to have possibly been destroyed by the Nazis. The group becomes reverently quiet as they gaze upon the pieces, and a chill works its way down Arthur’s spine. The paintings hold their own kind of presence, as if the dark piece of history they disappeared into clings to them in this bright museum.   
  
At last they reach the final gallery, and Merlin encourages the group to explore the gift shop or grab some food in the cafe. Merlin actively tries to make his way towards Arthur, but the members of the group stop him every few steps to ask him more questions or to let him know how much they enjoyed the tour. Arthur smiles. It’s clear that Merlin is very good at his job and, despite his protests about school groups, he enjoys it.   
  
Finally Merlin is able to shake off the stragglers, and he approaches Arthur. He unclips his name tag and shoves it in the pocket of his trousers.   
  
Usually Merlin is wearing a sweatshirt over his clothes, so Arthur doesn’t generally pay too much attention to his outfits. But along with those trousers that are just casual enough to fit in at Camelot Coffee but nice enough to be considered business-casual, he’s got a wine-colored button-up shirt and the sleeves are rolled up. Arthur has never noticed before, but Merlin has very nice forearms.  _ Very nice _ forearms. His mouth goes dry.   
  
“Ready for a coffee?” Merlin asks him with a wide smile, and Arthur nods, because he really doesn’t think he can speak right now.   
  
They walk into the cafe together, where they order coffee and sandwiches, and sit down at a corner table.   
  
“I know it’s not Camelot Coffee, but it’s a close second,” Merlin says with a sweeping gesture.   
  
“No, it’s good,” Arthur manages to choke out. “You were really good. With the tour group, I mean. You really know what you’re doing.”   
  
Merlin shrugs. “I’ve been working here for a couple years. I should know what I’m doing by now.”   
  
“You really enjoy it.”   
  
“I do most days. Some days it gets a bit routine, and some tour groups aren’t as much fun as others, but for the most part I like it.” He takes a bite of his sandwich. “It’s not what I want to be doing, though. Not ultimately, I mean.”   
  
“What do you want to be doing?” Arthur asks. He sips on his coffee while he waits for Merlin’s reply.   
  
“Obviously I want to be making some money off my work. I do a lot of painting and drawing in my spare time, and I’ve been able to sell some. But I’d also like to be the curator here. I’ve helped the curator out a bit and I’ve really enjoyed it. I’d get paid more, and I feel like my experience with art would really bring a lot to the position. But the curator has no plans to leave, and she’s really good at her job.”   
  
“Maybe see if there are open positions at a different museum?” Arthur suggests.   
  
“Yeah, I check around every now and then. Don’t get me wrong, I really do enjoy this job. I’d just like to...do something a bit different, I guess.”   
  
“I get that,” Arthur assures him. “Getting jobs after university isn’t always easy.”   
  
“You managed,” Merlin points out.   
  
“I had an internship. An unpaid one, that most people would never take on because they can’t afford it.” Arthur purses his lips. “This was obviously before the Catrina fiasco. That internship helped me get my foot in the door at my company. But like I said, most people can’t take an unpaid internship because they need to be making money immediately. I lucked out. I had my father’s money to fall back on. I was...privileged.”   
  
“Well, it wouldn’t matter with me, if I was privileged or not,” Merlin says with a shrug. “ _ Maybe _ if I had better connections my paintings would be hanging in soho art galleries right now. But I wouldn’t put money on it. It’s nearly impossible to make money off of art, especially while you’re alive. But I love it. It’s where my heart is. And so I’ll keep doing it because it makes me happy.”   
  
“I think that’s the best reason to do it. You’ve got your day job. It’s just financing you until you’re able to start selling your work for what it’s actually worth.”   
  
Merlin smiles. “You haven’t even seen any of my stuff.”   
  
Arthur drinks some more coffee. “Actually, I have. Our third year of uni. You displayed a couple paintings in the student hub during Art Appreciation Week. It was breathtaking. I didn’t know any other 20-year-olds who could paint like that.”   
  
Merlin’s hands are shaking slightly as he raises his own takeaway cup to his mouth. “I didn’t know you’d even looked at my stuff.”   
  
“It’s the only time I’ve ever seen any of it,” Arthur tells him. “But what I saw of it I loved.”   
  
“That’s actually really nice to hear,” Merlin says softly. “Because I’m so unknown most people aren’t interested in my stuff and no one really says anything kind about it. I’ve actually been feeling a bit discouraged lately,” he admits, voice growing even softer. “I posted a painting on etsy for £20, which doesn’t even cover the cost of supplies. Some douche offered me half that, because it wasn’t very good but he ‘likes to support new artists with some potential’. I didn’t sell it to him,” Merlin continues on. “But I just - that’s just an example, you know? My work never seems to be worth anything.”   
  
“Can I see the painting?” Arthur asks cautiously.   
  
Merlin hesitates for a second, before nodding. He pulls out his phone and gets into etsy, before pulling up his profile. He passes the phone to Arthur.   
  
The painting depicts the Welsh countryside, with emerald green slopes and a crystal-blue river cutting through the hill. Arthur can’t help but notice that the river seems to be the exact color of Merlin’s eyes.   
  
“It’s gorgeous,” Arthur breathes out. “Absolutely gorgeous. It’s worth so much more than £20.”   
  
“You think so?” Merlin asks nervously.   
  
“I know so.” He hands Merlin’s phone back to him. “Keep trying. That painting is worth every bit of the blood, sweat, and tears you so obviously poured into it.”   
  
Merlin ducks his head, his cheeks flaming red. “Okay,” he says so quietly Arthur almost doesn’t hear.   
  
“Good.”   
  
“So, how was the rest of your trip? Was it successful?” Merlin asks once he’s swallowed the last of his sandwich.   
  
“Yeah, I accomplished what I meant to,” Arthur says. “The flight home was total hell, though.” And he launches into the story of the babies taking turns crying, the kids with way too much energy, and his seatmate who was very obviously sick.   
  
“Oh god, that sounds like a nightmare,” Merlin laughs. “A very rough - how long was it?”   
  
“Nearly 15 hours,” Arthur says with a shudder.   
  
“Oh my god. That sounds terrible.” He reaches across the table to squeeze Arthur’s hand. “I’m glad you didn’t haul off and punch anyone, though. I might have.”   
  
Arthur laughs. “No you wouldn’t. You’re way too nice for that. If anyone’s the arsehole around here, it’s me.”   
  
“Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but…”   
  
“Shove off,” Arthur retorts with an eye roll, and he sticks his tongue out at Merlin.   
  
Merlin smirks. “I can think of a couple ways you can put that tongue to good use.”   
  
“I can think of a couple ways myself.”   
  
They probably need to talk about what’s going on between them. There’s flirty banter, and then there’s  _ this _ . They’re getting more touchy-feely by the moment, and the sexual innuendos are taking on a slightly more serious tone. There’s something sizzling beneath the jokes about blow jobs, and they can both feel it.   
  
But now is not the time or place to address it. This is hammered in when Merlin glances at his watch and yelps. “Oh shit, I have a tour group starting in five minutes. I’m so sorry, I have to go.”   
  
“That’s okay,” Arthur says as he stands up in sync with Merlin. “Have a good rest of your shift.”   
  
They throw their trash in the bin and Arthur walks Merlin to the lobby, where his tour group is waiting.   
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Merlin murmurs as Arthur heads for the exit.   
  
“Tomorrow morning,” Arthur agrees, and he steps out into the chilly late winter air, feeling as if he’s walking on a cloud.   


* * *

That feeling does not last for long. By 9pm that night, his throat feels as though he swallowed about a pound of sandpaper, and his head is throbbing. All he can do is take some more vitamin C and drink some of the echinacea tea he keeps around his flat, before crawling into bed and passing out.   
  
He wakes at 3am with absolutely zero ability to breathe through his nose. His throat has gotten worse. His head aches something fierce.   
  
He’s sick. He got his fucking seatmate’s cold. And he’s got breakfast with Merlin in six hours.   
  
He gets up and takes some more vitamin C, and tries gargling with salt water for his throat. He takes a couple of decongestant tablets, and sucks on a throat lozenge before huddling back under his blankets. He’s hoping this will pass quickly. He’s normally super healthy, and doesn’t get sick very often. And when he does fall ill, it’s only for a couple days.   
  
But luck is not on his side, because when he wakes again at 7:30, he feels no better than he did four and a half hours ago. And so he has no choice but to text Merlin, because talking on the phone is a bad idea with how much his throat hurts.   
  
**_Arthur_ ** _ : I can’t make it to breakfast this morning, I’m sick 😭😭😭🤧🤧🤧 _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Merlin_ ** _ : Oh no! The cold from your seatmate? _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Arthur_ ** _ : I think so _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Arthur_ ** _ : I feel like shit, not gonna lie _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Merlin_ ** _ : Stay home. We can do breakfast next Saturday 🙂 _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Arthur_ ** _ : Okay _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Arthur_ ** _ : I’m so sorry. _   
  
Practically the second after he sends the last text, he passes out again.   
  
His dreams are strange and blurry, with no real meaning to them. And when he wakes up, it’s with confusion and bewilderment. It takes him a moment to realize that his phone is ringing, and he scrabbles clumsily for it, just managing to swipe at the screen. “‘Lo?” he croaks out.   
  
“Hey, it’s me,” Merlin says on the other end. “So...I got to thinking. You’re sick and you live by yourself, and you’ve been gone for three weeks. So you probably don’t have a lot in the way of food or anything. So I’m outside your flat right now with chicken soup.”   
  
Arthur blinks and pinches himself to make sure he’s actually awake and not just dreaming. Merlin’s outside his flat with...chicken soup?   
  
“Arthur? Hello?”   
  
“‘M ‘ere. ‘Ang on.” It kills his throat to speak. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up, swaying slightly. He makes his way from bedroom to sitting room to the front door, unlatches it, and opens it.   
  
Merlin is standing there in his skinny jeans and sweatshirt, holding a huge covered bowl of the aforementioned chicken soup. His eyes roam over Arthur, and even in Arthur’s state of utter shittiness, he’s aware how awful he must look. But all Merlin does is press his lips together in sympathy. “Poor Arthur. Let me in and I’ll warm this up for you.”   
  
Arthur does so, and Merlin scoots off to the kitchen. Arthur thinks he should probably show Merlin where he keeps his pots and spoons and bowls and shit, but he can’t seem to bring himself to walk all that way. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Merlin shoos him back to his bedroom with the assurance that if he needs anything, he’ll come get Arthur.   
  
Arthur crawls back into bed, still feeling completely out of it and thinking that he probably has a fever. His room feels warmer than it has any right to be, and he thinks he might be sweating though he’s not really sure right now. He’s not really sure about anything, to be honest.   
  
He glances at his phone and sees that it’s just after 2pm. He slept for nearly six hours. Jetlag plus this fucking cold must be doing a number on him.   
  
Merlin strolls into his bedroom a few minutes later with a bowl of soup and a mug of tea balanced on a tray. He props the tray over Arthur’s knees and makes sure the blankets are tucked in around Arthur so the tray doesn’t tilt or slide.   
  
Arthur manages to croak out his thanks, and Merlin tells him not to talk. Arthur decides to obey the order.   
  
Once he’s managed to eat all the soup and drank most of his tea, Merlin tells Arthur that he’s going to leave for a little bit to run to a nearby supermarket and chemist. Arthur frowns at the news.   
  
“You don’t have much food here, and very little cold medicine. I’m just going to pick you up enough stuff to last you for a few days, okay? Text me if you think of something you need.”   
  
He fixes Arthur another cup of tea and then heads out.   
  
Arthur grabs his phone and loads Netflix, though he’s not really feeling like doing anything besides sleeping. Nevertheless, he manages to make it through a couple of sitcom episodes. He’s halfway through a third one when Merlin returns, clutching a couple bulging bags with canned soups, medicinal tea, and a handful of cold and flu medicine. Merlin bustles around, restocking Arthur’s pantry for him and fixing him a third cup of tea, before delivering it with throat lozenges, a nasal spray, and some decongestants.    
  
Merlin places his hand against Arthur’s forehead and clucks his tongue. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got a low fever. Hang on.” He vanishes into Arthur’s bedroom and returns a couple minutes later with his thermometer. He holds it against Arthur’s forehead until it can get an accurate reading. “Yeah, a low fever. Probably nothing more than a stupid cold. I know that doesn’t change the fact that you feel like shit, though.” He strokes a finger down Arthur’s cheek. His finger feels wonderfully cool against Arthur’s cheek, and Arthur doesn’t want Merlin to move away from where he’s sitting beside him on the bed.   
  
But Arthur is a little concerned. After all, he hugged Merlin yesterday, and now Merlin is right here, breathing in his air. What if Merlin gets sick?   
  
And so he grabs his phone and types out the question in his notes app.   
  
Merlin reads it and shakes his head. “I take a shit ton of vitamin C anyway, and I’m around hundreds of people day in and day out. I should be fine.”   
  
Arthur types out,  _ When did you make the soup? _   
  
Merlin bites his lip, before replying, “After your last text. I used my crockpot and let it cook for a few hours. My mum always made me chicken soup like that when I’d get sick, and I just kept doing it.”   
  
_ Thank you _ , Arthur types out.   
  
“You’re welcome,” Merlin tells him. “I’m just sorry you got sick. But I’m sure you’ll be on the mend soon. Anyway, I’m sure you want to rest, so I’ll head out.”   
  
Arthur shakes his head, and manages to croak out, “Stay, please.”   
  
He doesn’t want to be alone, but more than that, he doesn’t want Merlin to leave.   
  
Merlin chews on his bottom lip. “Are you sure?”   
  
Arthur nods and points to his smart TV, which he sometimes hooks up to his Netflix.   
  
“I did promise we’d watch Bridgerton together,” Merlin says with a small laugh.   
  
Arthur nods eagerly. Soapy period pieces aren’t typically his thing, but he’d watch paint drying if it meant that Merlin would stay.   
  
And so Merlin crawls onto the bed with him and Arthur fires up Netflix on his TV. They get through two episodes before Arthur ends up drifting off.   
  
But that’s okay, because when he wakes a couple hours later, Merlin is still there, watching Sherlock, which Arthur has already binge-watched. And when Arthur swallows, it’s no longer painful. His throat is still tender, but nothing like it was a few hours ago.   
  
He struggles into a sitting position, and Merlin smiles at him.   
  
“I think you’re a miracle worker,” he tells Merlin. “My throat feels loads better.”   
  
“You’re still pretty stuffed up.”   
  
“It’ll pass. You sure I won’t get you sick?”   
  
“I’ll be fine,” Merlin assures him. “And if I’m not, you can come nurse me back to health.”   
  
“Deal.” Arthur wiggles closer to him and lays his head on Merlin’s stomach. It’s the kind of position that couples lay in, and they’re  _ not  _ a couple. But Arthur’s having a very difficult time remembering that right now. Especially when Merlin absentmindedly threads his fingers through Arthur’s hair.   
  
It’s incredibly relaxing, lying like this together with a familiar TV series playing in the background. It’s comforting, Arthur notes, and he wonders just how long it’s been since he’s felt so safe and at peace. Even though he’s still stuffed up and his head still feels tender, he’s happy. And that’s not something he’s felt in a very long time.   
  
They stay like that for hours. 9pm is closing in on them when Merlin reminds Arthur that they both need to eat.   
  
“Let’s just get takeaway, we can use Postmates or something,” Arthur mumbles into Merlin’s stomach.   
  
“You should take it easy, you’re still sick,” Merlin points out, fingers still combing through Arthur’s hair.   
  
“What about pho?” Arthur suggests. “I used to eat pho in uni when I’d get sick. I always felt better.”   
  
“I like pho,” Merlin agrees. He opens Postmates on his phone and selects a nearby pho restaurant that’ll be open for another couple hours. He orders their pho along with a side of fresh spring rolls, and sets his phone aside. They relax together on Arthur’s bed, not saying much as they watch the episode playing out on the TV. When their food arrives, Merlin gets up to grab it.    
  
They end up eating their soup sitting up in Arthur’s bed, styrofoam bowls balanced precariously in their laps. It’s nearly 10:30 by the time they finish eating, and Arthur insists that Merlin just spend the night so that he doesn’t have to worry about catching a cab or a late-night bus. Merlin agrees, whether because he sees Arthur’s point or because he just likes the idea of spending the night in Arthur’s bed, it’s hard to say. All Arthur knows is that Merlin strips off his sweatshirt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt.   
  
If Arthur was feeling better, he’d make a comment about how this is a good start, but it’d be even better if Merlin was completely naked. But he’s still not feeling great, so he just leaves the suggestive comments for the time being.   
  
Merlin brushes his teeth with the spare toothbrush Arthur keeps in the bathroom on the off-chance he ever has an overnight guest - not counting someone who is currently platonic and is taking care of him while he’s sick. Though he’s hoping they won’t be platonic for too much longer.   
  
Merlin crawls into bed a few minutes later beside Arthur, and Arthur immediately snuggles up to him. Merlin chuckles and slides an arm around him. They drift off together, tangled up in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, didn't I say it? Total fluff. I'd actually intended to have Merlin come down with a cold, but it's one of those cases where if you work around a lot of people day in and day out, you either have a very bad immune system or an immune system made of steel. And I think Merlin's the latter. Plus airplanes have always been notorious germ factories. So it just made sense to have Arthur come down with a garden variety cold instead of Merlin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day to everyone who celebrates it, and happy Sunday to everyone who doesn't! I wasn't planning to post this today, I was going to wait until next week, but I'm off work today due to a snow storm and thought I'd make the most of it. So here's the next chapter 😊 Oh, and my reminder from the last chapter still stands, that Covid does not exist in this fic. It's either a cold or a flu.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Arthur wakes up on Sunday morning, it’s with the immediate realization that his head is on Merlin’s bony chest and Merlin’s arms are still around him. He smiles to himself and snuggles in a little closer. He still feels crappy, but it’s nowhere near as bad as he felt yesterday morning. Hopefully he’ll have this thing kicked in a day or two.   
  
Merlin wakes up a few minutes later. He stretches out under Arthur, and Arthur can feel the other man’s muscles elongating and then contracting again.   
  
“Did you sleep okay?” Arthur asks him.   
  
“Like a log,” Merlin grins. “I really like this bed. It’s very soft and warm.”   
  
“That’s just my body heat.”    
  
Merlin examines Arthur. “You sound a little bit better than you did last night.”   
  
“I feel a little bit better than I did last night.”   
  
“Good.”   
  
“Thank you for everything yesterday. You really didn’t have to do any of it.”   
  
“Oh sure, now you tell me.” Merlin laughs. “No, it was my pleasure. I was more than happy to. I know you have other people you could ask to help you, but…” he shrugs. “I wanted to.”   
  
“Thank you.” Their eyes meet, blue on blue, and Arthur realizes just how badly he wants to kiss Merlin. Even though they both have morning breath. Even though Arthur hasn’t showered in two days. But he can’t. He’s still sick, and trading spit seems like a fool-proof way to give Merlin his cold, no matter how much vitamin C Merlin might take. Of course, sharing a bed doesn’t seem like the best way to keep Merlin healthy, either, but kissing him would probably be even worse.   
  
Merlin sighs. “I know. I want to, too.”   
  
Arthur blinks. “What?”   
  
“You want to kiss me, right?”   
  
“I - yeah. Yeah, I do. But I’m not going to, because I’m sick.”   
  
Merlin reaches behind him and folds his arm under his head. “Yeah, I know. It sucks, but I’m pretty sure if we kissed I really would get your cold. I mean, there are worse things out there, but…”   
  
“You don’t want to get sick. You’re already risking it enough by being here with me. I don’t want to make you sick.” Arthur rests his chin on Merlin’s stomach and looks at him regretfully.   
  
“When you’re feeling better,” Merlin decides.   
  
“Okay.” Arthur buries his face in Merlin’s stomach because he can’t stop the smile spreading across his face. Merlin  _ does  _ feel the same way about him. Sure, he’d suspected it, but it’s always nice to get confirmation.   
  
At last Merlin wiggles out from under a very pouty Arthur so that he can fix them both breakfast and tea. He returns a little while later with scrambled eggs on toast and mugs of strong tea. They eat their breakfast together, and then Arthur encourages Merlin to use his shower, promising to shower after.   
  
He listens to the shower running in the next room, trying not to imagine Merlin naked under a steady stream of hot water. It doesn’t work. He can picture how flushed Merlin’s pale skin probably is right now, and the water droplets clinging to his black hair. If he concentrates, he can almost smell the shampoo residue on Merlin’s fingers, or the body wash sudsing over his skin. He wonders what it would be like to snatch the loofah out of Merlin’s hand and instead ease it down over his body, caressing it over sensitive nipples and letting it dip down his torso until he reaches Merlin’s hardening cock.   
  
The shower shuts off and Arthur is snapped out of his fantasy. He has to do some quick adjusting so that it’s not blatantly obvious that he’s hard as a fucking rock. His situation is not helped when Merlin walks out, towel wrapped around his slim waist, hair still damp.   
  
Merlin is skinny, it’s true, but he’s got some wiry muscle. That much is obvious to Arthur as he takes in the sight of a half-naked Merlin. Without even realizing it, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.   
  
Merlin smirks slightly. “I hope that means you’re enjoying the view.”   
  
“Way too much,” Arthur sighs as he stands up. “You don’t even want to know how much.   
  
Merlin’s gaze slides down to Arthur’s groin. “I’m pretty sure I do. But I’ll let it pass this once, on account of you still being sick. But next time,” he adds as Arthur walks around him towards the bathroom, “you’re all mine.”   
  
“Promise?” Arthur is pretty sure a small whimper escapes him.   
  
Merlin grins. “Definitely.”   
  
Arthur scurries into the bathroom. He knows he doesn’t have the energy yet to wank off, and besides, that would double his shower time. So he works on calming himself before he actually gets into the shower. It’s not easy, and he’s still half-hard when he finally steps under the hot water.   


* * *

Merlin ends up spending the rest of Sunday at Arthur’s. They spend the day lounging in Arthur’s bed, watching Netflix and eating Chinese takeaway. It’s with regretful goodbyes that Merlin leaves Arthur’s place at 7pm, because they both have to work the next morning and Merlin is definitely going to need a change of clothes. But they agree to meet at Camelot Coffee before work, and with that thought Arthur cheerfully heats up a can of soup for himself.   
  
Even though Arthur was able to shake the worst of the cold pretty fast, he still feels under the weather for the next few days, and only really starts regaining his energy on Thursday. He and Merlin throw around the idea of trying for breakfast again on Saturday, but on Friday morning Merlin rushes into Camelot Coffee with a pale face and a quivering bottom lip, and Arthur knows that something is terribly wrong.   
  
He orders coffee and food for both of them, and guides Merlin over to their usual table, forcing him to sit down. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he orders.   
  
“It’s - it’s nothing yet,” Merlin says, his voice shaky. “But my mum phoned me this morning. My uncle Gaius has fallen ill - he’s got the flu or something, and he’s not doing well at all. My mum had to take him to the hospital last night. He’s home now, but they want her to monitor him. They’re worried - she’s worried - “   
  
“You’re going home, aren’t you?” Arthur’s stomach sinks, but mostly he just feels sad for the pain that Merlin’s in right now. He can only imagine how scared Merlin must be.   
  
“Yeah.” Merlin wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m working until 3 today and then I’m catching a 6-o-clock train from Euston Station.”   
  
That’ll mean a cab ride if Merlin doesn’t want to hop on the tube or a bus with his luggage.    
  
“Let me take you to the station,” Arthur says suddenly. “I can borrow Gwaine’s car, and that way you don’t have to pay for a cab or deal with navigating public transport with luggage.”   
  
“It’ll just be a backpack and a duffle bag,” Merlin protests.   
  
“Please. I want to.”   
  
“Okay. I just don’t want you to go to any trouble.”   
  
“You gave up your entire weekend to nurse me back to health. This is the least I can do. Besides, I really do want to see you off. Who knows how long it’ll be before I see you again?”   
  
Merlin hesitates, and then nods.   
  
Arthur makes a quick call to Gwaine, who agrees to let Arthur borrow his car for the evening under the condition that he tops the petrol off before he returns it to the car garage. And so Arthur leaves work at 3:30 that afternoon so he can grab the keys from Gwaine and pick the car up by 4:15, in order to be at Merlin’s no later than 4:45. Traffic in London is a notorious bitch, and Arthur doesn’t want to add to Merlin’s stress by cutting things too close.   
  
At 4:40 he parks outside Merlin’s flat and texts him. Merlin is out in two minutes. Arthur pops the boot of the car, and Merlin swings his duffle bag and backpack in, before shutting the boot.

He climbs in on the passenger side. Once the door is shut and Merlin’s seatbelt is buckled, Arthur pulls away. 

As Arthur maneuvers the car through the jammed streets of London, the gray skies open up and rain begins to pour. 

“Did you get through work okay?” Arthur asks Merlin as he brakes at a traffic light. 

“Yeah. The museum is really great about family emergencies. They let me guide a couple of small tours and they’re letting me take as much time off as I need, as long as I keep them updated.” Merlin sighs. “I just can’t believe Gaius is so ill. He’s usually healthier than my mum and me put together.”

“And you’re the one who spent two straight days with me while I was sick and didn’t catch my cold,” Arthur adds. “If he’s usually that healthy, chances are he’ll pull through.”

He doesn’t want to give Merlin any false hope, but he also feels deep in his bones that things will work themselves out. Gaius will survive this, and Merlin will come out of this unscathed. 

Maybe it’s just hope. Or faith. Maybe it doesn’t matter. All Arthur knows is that Merlin reaches over and squeezes his hand, and Arthur’s heart swells like a balloon. He thinks he might actually be in love, but he doesn’t want to think about that, not right now in the middle of rush hour traffic when they’re trying to get to the train station so Merlin can get back to his little town in north Wales, where his great uncle is suffering from an awful case of the flu.   
  
“We’ll talk on the phone, right?” Merlin asks as the light changes, and Arthur steps down on the gas.    
  
“Every day if you want,” Arthur promises. “And we’ll text a lot. Maybe we’ll even get around to Facetiming.”   
  
Merlin smiles at the idea. “We never did get around to Facetiming while you were in New York.”   
  
“Nope.” Arthur pops the P. “We will this time.” He hopes. He’s sure that if Gaius is doing poorly, Merlin will have no energy to Facetime.   
  
They reach the station, and Arthur parks. He helps Merlin with his duffle bag, even though he knows Merlin is very capable of carrying it himself. He doesn’t care. He just wants an excuse to walk Merlin into the station. They get so far as the ticket machines before they realize Arthur can’t continue on if he doesn’t want to go to Wales.   
  
The problem is, he kind of does.   
  
But he knows he can’t. Whatever he and Merlin may have, they’re not at the stage where Arthur can accompany him home during a family crisis. And so Arthur wordlessly wraps Merlin up in a deep hug, holding him tightly. And they just stay like that for what feels like hours.   
  
But if Merlin wants to catch his train, he has to go. And so he steps away from Arthur.   
  
“When I get back, maybe we can have our lasagna night,” he murmurs.   
  
“Count on it.”   
  
Merlin picks up his duffle bag, buys his ticket, and pushes through the turnstile. Before he vanishes from sight, he turns around one last time to blow a kiss at Arthur.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't a lot going on in this chapter, it's more of a bridge to the next couple chapters.
> 
> I haven't finished writing the story yet, but I'm thinking there might be 13 or 14 chapters instead of 12. I'm just keeping 12 as a rough estimate, so we'll see how it goes and what Merlin and Arthur decide to do 😊
> 
> Enjoy!

Arthur misses Merlin.   
  
Over the next few days, he works extra hard to keep himself busy. He stays late at work, throws himself into Lancelot’s and Gwen’s wedding preparations, and meets up with Gwaine, Percival, Lancelot, and Leon for drinks three nights in a row.    
  
On Saturday, he goes over to the future Mr. and Mrs. Knight’s flat, and helps Lancelot and Gwen address and stamp wedding invitations. He orders flowers for the wedding. He double and triple checks the booking at the Avalon Hotel. He double and triple checks that the catering company has received their chosen menu. When Gwen’s chosen wedding dress proves to be a couple hundred quid outside their budget, Arthur helps Lancelot and Morgana calm Gwen down. And most of all, he tries not to dwell on the fact that Merlin’s in Wales, caring for his sick uncle.   
  
He and Merlin text often, and they’ve talked on the phone nearly every day, but the news isn’t great. Merlin’s uncle Gaius isn’t recovering the way Merlin and his mum were hoping, and they’re discussing checking him into the hospital again with their GP. Merlin sounds exhausted every time they speak on the phone, and his texts are lacking their usual abundance of emojis.   
  
On Sunday, Arthur is once more at Lancelot’s and Gwen’s flat, this time helping them pick the alcohol for the reception, when his phone rings. He checks it and sees that it’s Merlin. He doesn’t even bother excusing himself before he answers it.   
  
“How’s everything going?”   
  
“Well, we’re getting him checked back into the hospital,” Merlin replies wearily. “We had no choice, his temperature skyrocketed. My mum’s with him now.”   
  
“Where are you at?” Arthur asks, turning away from Lancelot and Gwen.   
  
“In the cafeteria. Trying to eat something, but I’m having some trouble swallowing anything.”   
  
“Get some soup or something,” Arthur urges him. “You need to eat. You’re going through an awful time, and you need to keep your strength up.”   
  
“Must be Merlin,” Arthur hears Gwen murmur to Lancelot.   
  
“I’ll try,” Merlin says with a yawn. “How’s everything back home?”   
  
“Oh, we’re all okay. Been helping Gwen and Lancelot with the wedding. We’re selecting wines right now. Oh, and the invitations should be in the mail tomorrow morning.”   
  
“That’s great. Can you tell them I’m sorry I’m not there to help out more?”   
  
“They understand. Just focus on your family.”   
  
“When’s your next business trip?”   
  
Arthur blinks at the sudden change of subject. “I’m leaving a week from tomorrow for Germany. I’ll only be there for a week, though.”   
  
“Oh. That’s not so bad, then.”   
  
“No. I’m a little sad I’m not going during Oktoberfest, though.”   
  
Merlin laughs at that. It sounds rusty, as if he hasn’t used those muscles in days. “We should go next year.”   
  
Arthur smiles into the phone. “For sure.”   
  
“Maybe tonight we could Facetime?” Merlin asks almost shyly. “I could really - I mean I’d love to - I miss your stupid face.”   
  
“If my face is so stupid, why do you miss it?” Arthur teases. “Seems like you’d be glad to be rid of it.”   
  
“Shut up, you know what I mean.”   
  
Arthur chuckles. “Yeah, we can Facetime tonight.”   
  
“Great. I’ll probably get home around nine tonight.”   
  
“I’ll see you sometime after that, then.”   
  
“Yes. Yes, you definitely will.”   
  
They hang up and Arthur turns to find both his friends smirking at him.   
  
“Shut up, he’s lonely and miserable and scared.”   
  
“It’s so nice of you to help him through this trying time,” Gwen says sweetly. “It’s really great that you two have become such good  _ friends _ .” Her smirk widens as Arthur flinches at the F word. “That’s what I thought,” she adds in satisfaction. “You two are not just friends. There’s something more, isn’t there? Are you two dating?”   
  
“Not yet.” Arthur does not want to have this conversation, especially right now, when his thoughts are spinning in every direction. But he also knows he just took a personal phone call in the middle of their sitting room. And two months ago, he and Merlin practically verbally fucked each other at their dinner table. He probably owes them the truth. “But I think we might be heading in that direction. We really miss each other.” And before he knows it, he’s spilling everything. Well, almost everything. He tells them about their coffee shop meetings before work; about the phone calls and the texting while he was in New York; about how he visited Merlin at the museum practically the second he stepped foot back on London soil; and about how Merlin took care of him while he was sick and even spent two full days at his flat.. Up until now it hasn’t occurred to him how much he’s keeping to himself. But he realizes as he talks that it feels good to tell such a supportive couple about his burgeoning relationship with Merlin.   
  
“So that’s why you took Merlin to the train station,” Lancelot says thoughtfully. “Gwaine mentioned you borrowed his car for that, and I wondered...well, it makes perfect sense now.”   
  
“Arthur, you and Merlin would make a  _ wonderful  _ couple,” Gwen adds with an excited smile. “Honestly, with the way you two used to pick at each other...well, I always wondered whether there wasn’t something there. Even back in uni, I always thought you two seemed into each other. But you were dating that medical student for ages, and Merlin was with that journalism student, and then a couple of fellow art students…” She trails off when she sees the look on Arthur’s face. “Oh, but that was all forever ago. But no, I suppose you two haven’t gotten around to talking about past relationships…”   
  
“Or about your sexual history,” Lancelot puts in, completely oblivious to the fact that Arthur really doesn’t want to think about Merlin being fucked by someone else. “That’s really important. I know it’s been awhile since you’ve dated, so -”   
  
“You haven’t dated anyone but Gwen since you were 19!” Arthur nearly shouts. “I’ve dated much more recently than you have.”   
  
“True, but I’ve got a better track record,” he points out. “It’s interesting. Neither you or Merlin have been able to keep a relationship alive longer than six months in years.”   
  
“How about that,” Arthur grumbles. “Can we go back to choosing wines now?”   
  
In the end they narrow the choices down to about five different wines, plus two champagnes, and Arthur leaves their flat around 5pm. His head hurts after so many hours of staring at wine lists, and debating the pros and cons between red and white, and French and Italian. He thinks that planning a wedding is a lot of unnecessary work, and if he ever gets married, he and his future spouse are just going to elope to the Italian Riviera. Or maybe the Spanish Riviera. One of the Rivieras.   
  
He springs for a cab back to his flat, and lets out a sigh of relief once he locks the door behind him. He orders an Indian takeaway, and settles in with Netflix and a hot cup of tea to while away the time until Merlin is ready for the video call.   
  
When his curry arrives he gobbles it down, before jumping in the shower for a quick wash.    
  
He spends the remaining time until the video call watching Netflix and lounging in his bed. At 9:10, a text from Merlin arrives:   
  
**_Merlin_ ** _ : Just got home. Gonna take a quick shower and then I’ll be ready! _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Arthur_ ** _ : OK, see you soon! _   
  
At 9:50 his phone begins ringing and he sees the Facetime call coming through. He hits the accept button and a moment later Merlin’s face fills his screen.   
  
Arthur feels his own face break out into a huge face. “Hey.”   
  
“Hey,” Merlin replies, his signature grin spreading across his face. It’s all Arthur wants to see. It’s all he thinks he’ll ever want to see. “Long time, no see.”   
  
“Yeah, it’s been a little bit. How’s your great-uncle?”   
  
“Well, his temperature has gone down quite a bit. He’s still got a fever, but it’s low. The doctors are pumping fluids into him like crazy, trying to keep him hydrated, and some of the color has returned to his cheeks. He even informed me that I’m an insolent little shit, so I’d say he’s on the road to recovery.”   
  
Arthur chuckles. “You are an insolent little shit.”

Merlin bats his eyes at Arthur. “You say the sweetest things.”   
  
“Thanks, I try.”   
  
“So how was picking out wines?”   
  
“Exhausting. You’d think it’d be fun, but Gwen and Lancelot had their first huge argument over what kind of wine they want. I had to play referee.” Arthur smooths his hand over his face. “That was something of an experience. I guess I took over for you with sorting out disagreements.”   
  
“Is the wedding still on?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Then you did a good job,” Merlin says with a grin. “Weddings have been called off over smaller arguments than a wine selection.”   
  
“True,” Arthur acknowledges. “Oh, and Gwaine is in the midst of sorting out the stag party. So I’m helping him out with that a bit.”   
  
Merlin raises an eyebrow. “Found a stripper yet?”   
  
“I think Gwaine and Leon are working on that.”   
  
“Strippers not your cup of tea?” Merlin asks with a waggle of his eyebrows.   
  
“No, I suppose I’d like a stripper as much as the next guy. I mean, I’m bi, so…”   
  
“Oh. Right. Somehow I forgot that.” Merlin’s expression seems to close in on itself, and Arthur realizes he definitely said the wrong thing.   
  
“I have no interest in who they choose as the stripper. I’m more focused on someone else, even if he’s not here in London right now.”   
  
Merlin doesn’t say anything to that, so Arthur continues on. “I’d do anything to see him. Merlin - I’d do anything to see  _ you _ . I really miss you.”   
  
“I miss you, too,” Merlin mumbles. He’s not looking at Arthur. His chin has dropped to his chest and Arthur knows he’s hiding a pout.   
  
“I’ve done stupid things in the past. But we all have. And it was a long time ago,” Arthur points out. “And strippers are fine and everything, but I’m not trying to hook up with one.”   
  
“Okay,” Merlin says so softly it’s nearly a whisper.   
  
“Okay.” Arthur chews on his bottom lip. He’s suddenly been struck with a crazy idea. It’s the kind of idea he would never normally even voice, but he misses Merlin so fucking much, and hates the idea of going another two weeks without being with him in person. And so he asks, “What if I came to Wales?”   
  
Merlin looks up at that. Even in the distorted screen of Arthur’s phone his eyes shine like sapphires. “What?”   
  
“What if I came to Wales? What if I joined you? Just for a couple days. And I wouldn’t need to stay at your house, I could find a hotel or something.”   
  
Merlin blinks, and then all of a sudden that grin has dwarfed his entire face. “You’d do that? For real? You’d come to Wales?”   
  
“I could book a train tomorrow. Be there on Tuesday. Stay until...Thursday. Friday, maybe.”   
  
“You’d really do that?”   
  
“Didn’t I just tell you, I’d do anything to see you, Merlin?”   
  
“But what about your job?”   
“I don’t have any meetings this week. I can work from the hotel if need be. Or just use my sick time or compassionate leave.”   
  
Merlin bites down on his bottom lip, hard enough for his cherry-colored mouth to flush an even darker red.   
  
“Do you want me to do it?” Arthur asks. His stomach drops as he realizes that maybe Merlin doesn’t actually want him to join him in Wales. Maybe Merlin would be more comfortable if Arthur just stayed in London for the time being.   
  
But then Merlin nods. “I want you to do it. I want you here with me.”   
  
“Then I’ll do it.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
They stare at each other through their phones’ screens, eyes locked despite the nearly three-hundred mile distance. Arthur’s blood is sizzling in his veins, and as Merlin once more bites down on his lower lip, tugging at it with his own teeth, he knows he’s not the only one feeling as though he might jump out of his skin. He’s going to join Merlin in Wales.  _ He’s  _ going to join  _ Merlin  _ in  _ Wales _ . He tries the sentence out a couple different ways in his head. He likes the sentence no matter what emphasis he puts on the words. Mostly he just likes the idea of being with Merlin again.   
  
And so he pulls his laptop towards him and opens a browser. Two minutes later he’s purchased a ticket for the train leaving Euston Station to North Wales late Tuesday morning. He doesn’t get a roundtrip ticket, because he and Merlin agree to play it by ear. If Gaius takes a sudden turn, Arthur is sure Merlin will want him to go back to London, but if Gaius continues to improve, maybe Arthur can stick around for a bit.   
  
He announces to Merlin that he’s bought the ticket, and Merlin’s cheeks flush with excitement.   
  
“So I’ll see you Tuesday afternoon?”   
  
“Yeah. What’s the town’s name?” Arthur knows it’s near a hospital whose name he can’t pronounce, where Gaius is right now, but for the life of him he can’t remember what Merlin’s hometown is called.   
  
“Oh, Ealdor. You’re probably coming in at the Llanfairpwll Station.”   
  
Arthur gapes at him. “Say that name again?”   
  
Merlin cracks up and repeats it. “You’re so fucking British.”   
  
“You’re so fucking Welsh,” Arthur huffs.   
  
“I hope to fuck you can pronounce Ealdor.”   
  
“It sounds like something out of the Lord of the Rings,” Arthur gripes.   
  
“Sounds like a you problem, Mr. Kent-born-and-bred.”   
  
Arthur allows himself a wry smile. “And now very London-based.”   
  
“This should make your life a little bit interesting.”   
  
“It’s not my fault I’m not Celtic!”   
  
“Please. You’ve been around me enough to be able to pronounce even the most Welsh words.”   
  
Arthur responds with two fingers.   
  
Merlin laughs. “Maybe if you’re lucky you can use those fingers while you’re in Ealdor.”   
  
“Just give me the name of a hotel near Ealdor.”   
  
“You could stay with me if you want.”   
  
“I don’t want to impose. Besides, what if your uncle comes home while I’m there? I’m sure you don’t want any outside germs lingering around the house.”   
  
Merlin’s lips twitch. “Did you just call yourself a germ?”   
  
“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”   
  
“Ugh. Fine. All right. The Camelot Inn is pretty clean and not too expensive.”   
  
Arthur’s eyebrows skyrocket. “The Camelot Inn? Like Camelot Coffee?”   
  
Merlin laughs again. “Yeah. It’s kind of a common name if you think about it.”   
  
“I suppose.” Arthur pulls their website up on his laptop. After checking out the rooms and the prices, he books a single from Tuesday until Sunday morning. He figures that’s the best-case scenario, and if all else fails, he can check out early and just eat the cost. “Well, I’ve got my room. So I’ll see you on Tuesday.”   
  
“Definitely.” Merlin smiles widely at him, and Arthur’s heart clenches in his chest. He spoke the truth: He’d do anything to see Merlin. Hopping a train bound for northern Wales is just the tip of the iceberg.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I fully intended to post this chapter this past weekend. And then earlier this week. But life just kept getting in the way. But it's getting posted now, so I hope it's worth the wait 😉
> 
> I bumped the chapter total up to 13 because I know this story is going to be at least 13 chapters, but possibly 14 or 15. With work being a huge emotional drain, I've really fallen behind on all my WIP (this one and my PJO fics), but I've written through chapter 10 on this story, and I'm hoping to play catch up on it soon.
> 
> Anyway, I think you guys will probably like this chapter. So enjoy 😊

Arthur expects Monday to drag like a shit show, but instead it flies by. He goes into the office and briefly explains the situation to his boss, requesting that he use some of the vacation time he’s accumulated but almost never bothers to put in for. He asks Lancelot to pop by his flat to check his mail, and throws clothes nearly haphazardly into a suitcase. He double-checks his room confirmation at the Camelot Inn, and triple-checks his train ticket to the station he can’t fucking pronounce for the life of him.   
  
He puts the finishing touches on his arrangements with Merlin. Arthur’s train is due to arrive at 2:30pm, and Merlin will pick him up from the station. Gaius is doing even better today, though the doctors are still keeping a very close eye on him.   
  
Gwaine drives Arthur to Euston Station the next morning. Arthur had teetered back and forth between asking Gwaine to drive him and just taking a cab, but in the end he chose his friend over the more pricey ride.   
  
“So you and Merlin, eh?” Gwaine asks, waggling his eyebrows at Arthur as he careens through London traffic with all the finesse of a drunk elephant.   
  
“Something like that.” Arthur grips the door handle for dear life. He’s beginning to have serious regrets about not just shelling out the pounds for a safe ride with a driver who actually knows what the hell they’re doing.   
  
“You two shagged yet?”   
  
“We haven’t even kissed.”   
  
“But you two are...something?” Gwaine seems very confused by this. Arthur can understand why. Gwaine’s idea of romance is licking chocolate syrup off a girl’s chest. No doubt Gwaine can’t figure out why the fuck Arthur is so into Merlin when they’re not even sleeping together yet.   
  
“It’s...I don’t know. Complicated I guess? I mean, it’s not but I guess it could be? We like each other but every time we think we’re about to get together something happens to get in the way. I get sick or he has to go back to Wales or - “   
  
“Sounds pretty simple to me,” Gwaine replies, coming  _ thisclose  _ from rear-ending the car he’s been tailgating. “Life’s a fucking bitch. But you’re into each other, so you’re trying to work around it. Just like you’re doing right now. It’s noble.”   
  
“I don’t think this is noble. I just miss him, and he misses me.”   
  
Gwaine shrugs as he nearly side-sweeps a double decker bus. “I wouldn’t do it.”   
  
“That’s because the only romantic bone in your body has strings attached to it.”   
  
“You’re not overly romantic either,” Gwaine reminds him.   
  
“No, I’m generally not.”   
  
“Seems like maybe Merlin is changing that up for you. Might be a good thing. You haven’t had a proper date in nearly a year. Probably longer, knowing you. And Merlin hasn’t dated much lately, from what Gwen and Morgana have told me.”   
  
“You just drove through a red light.”   
  
“Whoops, my bad.”   
  
Arthur considers it something of a miracle that he makes it to Euston Station alive and only mildly traumatized. He staggers out of Gwaine’s car and waves off his offers of assistance with Arthur’s luggage. He nearly runs to the ticket terminal, before pushing through the turnstile. He boards his train and collapses onto the seat, letting a huge breath whoosh out of him.   
  
He’s on the train. He’s made it.   
  
And fifteen minutes later, the train is chugging out of Euston Station, taking him closer to Merlin minute by minute, second by second. Arthur shoots a quick text to Merlin to let him know he’s on his way, and settles in for the train ride.   
  
The train ride is four-and-a-half hours, so Arthur boots up his laptop to get some work done. He spends the next couple hours working nonstop, pausing only to take a sip of coffee from his thermos. He wants to get as much work done as possible on the train so that he can devote the rest of his time to Merlin and whatever he needs. Besides, who wants to spend four days cooped up in a small hotel room in beautiful Wales?   
  
He pauses at the two hour mark to get up and stretch, before settling in for another two hour period of work. As the train enters Wales, however, Arthur’s attention is diverted more and more to the lush green scenery rolling past the window, and at the four hour mark he gives up all hopes of working and shuts his laptop away.   
  
As 2:30 approaches, Arthur’s nerves jangle the way they do when he’s had too much espresso and not enough sleep. He feels as though a live wire is zipping through his veins, sparking and electrifying him until he’s nothing more than a sparkling puddle of anxiety.   
  
At 2:32pm, the train pulls into the Llanfairpwll Station.   
  
He’s here.   
  
He’s made it.   
  
He’s in Wales.   
  
Arthur disembarks from the train and makes his way through the station. He spots Merlin waiting for him in the lobby, leaning against a wall as his sapphire eyes take in the passerby. And then he looks up and sees Arthur, and his eyes light up.   
  
“You’re here!” he cries, and he dodges around an elderly couple to get to Arthur. Suddenly Arthur is engulfed in a huge hug, and he’s hugging Merlin back. He holds the other man close, bodies pressed together, hearts beating against the other’s chest. Arthur closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar smell that is Merlin, feeling the wiry muscles and bones pressing up against his own. He just wants to stand here forever, holding Merlin against him. But then an announcement for the next train out blasts overhead, and Arthur jerks slightly. Merlin holds him firm, letting his forehead rest against Arthur’s.   
  
Arthur doesn’t know how long they stay like they, plush against each other in the middle of a train station lobby. But at last Merlin steps back, his nose lightly brushing against Arthur’s. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers. “I’m glad you’re with me.”   
  
“I am, too.” It seems like such a small thing to say, but those three words carry so much weight in that moment. Arthur knows that Merlin understands what he means - that he’s so relieved to see him, that all he wants is to stay with him for as long as possible, that he just wants to take all the stress and worry and pain from the last week away. And so Merlin smiles and takes Arthur’s hand in his. He wordlessly leads Arthur out of the station and to the car park, where an old Land Rover is waiting for them.   
  
“It’s my mum’s,” Merlin explains as he opens the boot so Arthur can throw his suitcase and messenger bag in the back. “She’s got a much newer car now, one that she’s been driving back and forth to the hospital. She’s letting me use this while you’re here.”   
  
“That’s really nice of her,” Arthur says as he hauls himself into the passenger seat.   
  
“It’s the car I learned to drive on,” Merlin tells Arthur as he settles behind the steering wheel. “My mum and uncle decided to start teaching me when I was 15. Of course, that was when we thought I’d probably stay in the country.” He skillfully maneuvers the boxy vehicle out of the car park and out onto the road.   
  
“How do they feel about you living in London?” Arthur asks. He can’t imagine they’re all too thrilled about Merlin living in a huge city so far away from home.   
  
“Eh. It’s not their favorite thing in the world.” Arthur notices that Merlin’s Welsh accent has grown a lot thicker and broader. He likes it - a lot. “They wanted me to stay in the Ealdor area, but they know I’m happy in London. Letting me to go uni in London though...my mum was a bit chopsy about it.”   
  
“She was - I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?”   
  
Merlin grins. “She argued with me a lot over it. Even though I got a scholarship to UCL and everything. Eventually it was Gaius who stepped in and told her she needed to let me go live my own life.”   
  
“How’d they take the news that you’re gay?”   
  
“They don’t care. Mum said she always kinda knew, but she really figured it out when I was in secondary school and all my friends were hooking up with girls and I was just...not. I mean, I could’ve been a late bloomer of course, but she said she caught the way I’d look at a friend or two. So she knew. And Gaius has always just wanted me to be happy, no matter what.” Merlin pauses. “Does your father know?”   
  
“That I’m bi? I’m not sure to be honest. I don’t think he’d care either way. He doesn’t have anything to do with Morgana or me anymore. I could start hooking on street corners and he wouldn’t bat an eye.”   
  
“Right, his wife corrupted him.”   
  
“She...did something. She’s a bitch, and she never liked Morgana or me. I suspect she was dripping poison into his ear about me and Morgana long before they got married. And it’s his own damn fault for believing it.”   
  
“Still. It must hurt.”   
  
Arthur shrugs because yes, it does hurt. It hurts very much. It’s his father and of course he loves him. And to be so brutally rejected, to be chucked out of his childhood home for something he never even said or did is a memory that will forever haunt him.   
  
Merlin reaches over and once more entwines his fingers with Arthur’s. “Morgana’s told me a lot of stuff,” Merlin says quietly. “She told me that your father threw you both out of the house the day after his wedding to Catrina, and threatened to call the police if either of you ever darkened his doorstep again.”   
  
“That about sums it up,” Arthur admits.    
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
“Don’t be. It was ages ago.”   
  
Merlin doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t say anything else.   
  
“How’s Gaius doing?”   
  
“Oh, much better.” Merlin brightens up. “His fever is nearly broken. They’re pretty sure he’s out of the woods, they’re just going to keep him for a few more days for observation.” Merlin pauses, glancing at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. “He wants to meet you.”   
  
Arthur nearly chokes on air. “He wants to meet  _ me _ ?”   
  
“Yeah.” Spots of color bloom on Merlin’s cheeks. “I’ve told him a bit about you. Well, him and my mum both.”   
  
“Oh. Well. If he wants to meet me, then okay.”   
  
To be honest, Arthur hasn’t given much thought to meeting either Merlin’s mother or his great-uncle. He’s just been so focused on getting to Merlin. He supposes that he knew he’d end up meeting them at some point during his impromptu trip, but the idea that either one knows about him is mind boggling. It means that Merlin has talked about him  _ a lot _ . He likes what that means.   
  
He squeezes Merlin’s hand, and Merlin squeezes back.   
  
Merlin drives to the Camelot Inn, and parks outside. They go inside so Arthur can check-in and take his bags up to his room. His room is small, with the bed, a television set, a nightstand, and a tiny bathroom. There is just enough floor-space for Arthur to set his stuff down.   
  
“Cozy,” Merlin comments as he looks around the room.    
  
“I’ve stayed in worse. This seems pretty clean.” He turns to Merlin. “What do you need to do? Do you need to go back to the hospital?”   
  
Merlin shakes his head. “I sat with Gaius this morning. My mum’s with him right now, and he’s got a couple of friends coming by tonight. How about I show you around Ealdor?”   
  
“I’d love that.”   
  
“Tidy.” Merlin grins at the confused look on Arthur’s face. “Fantastic. Come on, let’s go.” He grabs Arthur’s hand and together they make their way back down to the Land Rover.   
  
Merlin drives through Ealdor, pointing out his primary and secondary schools, his favorite place to grab coffee before classes would begin, and the little gift shop where he had his first job. It’s a slice of Merlin’s life that Arthur will only get to experience through Merlin’s memories. It’s moments like these he wishes he hadn’t been so fucking blind and oblivious in uni. Maybe he and Merlin would have gotten together ten years ago, instead of just now realizing how much they care about each other.   
  
But maybe it wouldn’t have worked. Maybe their personalities back then wouldn’t have meshed. Arthur remembers how much they used to clash, how much they used to piss the other off. They get along now, but they’ve both grown up a lot. They’re adults now, not moody teenagers who think they know everything. Maybe they’re right where they need to be to make this relationship work. Maybe they’ve slowly been moving in that direction all this time, with no idea what they were actually doing. Arthur has never much believed in fate or destiny, but as he looks at Merlin excitedly pointing at an ice cream parlor he used to frequent, he can’t help but think that maybe there is such a thing.   
  
They end up stopping for ice cream, where they both get huge cones despite the chilly late winter day. After that Merlin insists they stop in at his favorite coffee shop for coffees to warm them both up. Arthur is more than happy to indulge him, and he gamely agrees when Merlin suggests they visit Lake Avalon, yet another callback - Lake Avalon, the Avalon Hotel. It’s beginning to feel as though these bits and pieces of their lives are intertwining, tugging Arthur closer to Merlin.   
  
Merlin parks the Land Rover just off the shadowy beach of the lake, and together they make their way down the slippery rocks to the water’s edge, hand in hand once more even as they slide around and bump into each other. Arthur nearly takes Merlin down when his steps on a particularly slimy rock, but somehow they manage to stay upright. At last they stumble onto the beach, giggling like they’re drunk off their arses, even though they haven’t touched a drop of alcohol.   
  
“Do you miss London?” Arthur asks Merlin as they walk along the lake. The wind whips at their faces and the temperature is dropping quickly. But Arthur doesn’t mind. He and Merlin are walking so closely together that they keep tripping over the other’s foot, and maybe this is a bad idea but neither one wants to move away.   
  
“I do,” Merlin replies. “I love being back here, but London...London is where my life is now. Ealdor is my past, but it’s not my future.”   
  
Arthur nods. “That’s how I feel about the Pendragon Manor. Even about UCL. I don’t know if I’d recognize who I was ten years ago.”   
  
“I know I wouldn’t,” Merlin says with a shrug. “I didn’t like you from the moment I first saw you, based off the fact that you were rich and hot and seemed to be the corporate type. Which you totally are, but,” he shrugs again, “you’re not so bad.”   
  
“You said I used to be a prat.”   
  
“You were. You didn’t like me either,” Merlin reminds him.   
  
“Yeah, you seemed like the hipster type who’d be forever looking down your nose at me simply because I was a Pendragon. But I guess I probably didn’t treat you super well, either. It was easier to brush you off.”   
  
“We fought like cats and dogs,” Merlin recalls. “You used to - fuck, you used to make me so fucking mad. But the worst part was, there was always this little bit of me deep down that wanted you so fucking bad. You were so fucking gorgeous, and all I wanted - I just wanted your attention.”   
  
“I wanted yours,” Arthur admits. “If I was in the same room as you, I sure as fuck was watching your every move. I just...the idea of admitting it...it almost killed me.”   
  
Merlin stops in the sand and looks at Arthur. “But we’re here now.”   
  
“Yeah, we are.”   
  
Their eyes lock, and Arthur isn’t sure which one of them closes the gap. All he knows is suddenly his lips are locked against Merlin’s and all other thoughts disappear. Merlin tastes like chocolate ice cream and coffee, and his nose is icy cold as it brushes against Arthur’s skin. His fingers cup the back of Merlin’s neck as he deepens the kiss, and Merlin’s fingers are sliding down his shoulders and over his chest. He licks against Merlin’s mouth and Merlin grants him entrance, and Arthur can feel every inch of Merlin’s body, even through the thick sweatshirt, even through his jacket. He wants to memorize it, to savor it, to keep it with him forever and ever. He wants this kiss to last an eternity, for them to stay locked in this moment so that it never ends. And as Merlin’s fists grip the inside of his jacket, pulling him even closer and yanking him off-balance, he knows that in his head this is never going to end, that he’ll always be living this moment.   
  
Arthur teeters against Merlin, and he swears that Merlin whispers “fuck it” against his lips, before dragging him down into the freezingly wet sand. Their legs are tangled up with each other and Arthur sucks hard on Merlin’s lower lip as the other man does his best to crawl into Arthur’s lap. Arthur breaks the kiss, but when Merlin makes a whimpering noise of protest and disappointment, Arthur presses his lips to the little bit of Merlin’s neck he can get to. He just wants to taste him, to memorize every inch of his body.   
  
Thunder rumbles overhead, but neither man moves to get up. Merlin squirms in Arthur’s lap as Arthur sucks a huge bruise into his neck, and Arthur can feel how much Merlin is enjoying this through those fucking skinny jeans. It occurs to him that this is the first time he’s been able to really feel the effect he has on Merlin.   
  
The sky suddenly opens up, and the rain dumps down on them.   
  
“Fuck!” Merlin gasps as Arthur is forced to pull back. “This fucking weather - “   
  
It’s been ten seconds and they’re already drenched to the bone.   
  
“We need to get back to the car,” Arthur says. “We can go back to my hotel room. I’m pretty sure my shower has hot water.”   
  
“It better,” Merlin grumbles as he picks himself up off Arthur. “That was some fucking timing.”   
  
“It’s our timing,” Arthur says with a shrug. Even though he’s shivering and he’s soaking wet and covered in sand, he can’t bring himself to care. He kissed Merlin. He and Merlin have kissed. And they’re going to do it again and again and again.   


* * *

The pouring rain persists as they drive back to the Camelot Inn. Once the Land Rover is parked, they make a dash for the hotel, and scurry up to Arthur’s room. Arthur locks the door behind them, and before he can even move deeper into the room, Merlin slams against his, lips crashing messily against his. Fingers scrabble at the others’ clothes as their tongues fight for dominance. Arthur manages to get Merlin’s sweatshirt off as Merlin shoves Arthur’s jacket from his shoulders. Arthur nips at Merlin’s bottom lip, and Merlin lets out a startled whine, before shifting his fingers into Arthur’s hair and tugging. Arthur gasps in surprise, and Merlin takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past Arthur’s. Arthur growls and steers Merlin back towards the bed. He shoves him down and climbs on top, pinning him to the mattress. Merlin reaches for him, but Arthur ducks out of the way. Instead he slowly, tantalizingly, drags his lips and tongue over every inch of Merlin’s body he can get to. Neck and collarbone get the treatment first, and then Arthur shimmies his way down, fingers breaching Merlin’s t-shirt. He pushes it up and licks a long stripe across Merlin’s navel, eliciting a shudder out of the other man. He straightens up and looks Merlin square in the eye.   
  
“Take your t-shirt off.”   
  
Merlin gulps, pupils blown wide with arousal, and quickly shucks his t-shirt.   
  
Arthur takes the opportunity to explore his bony hips and narrow torso. He quickly learns that Merlin has  _ very  _ sensitive nipples, and spends a few minutes licking, sucking, and biting each one. As he tells Merlin, he doesn’t want the other one to feel left out. And all the while, he’s aware of Merlin’s arousal pressing into his leg. And he’s sure that Merlin is all too aware of his own boner pressing into his hip.   
  
“This is not fair,” Merlin finally gripes once Arthur has pulled back from working on his nipples. “I’m shirtless and you’re not. That needs to change.”   
  
Arthur sits back on his heels. “So change it.”   
  
Merlin growls in the same way as Arthur, and launches himself at Arthur, hauling Arthur’s jumper off. The next thing Arthur knows, he’s flat on his back on the bed, with Merlin straddling him. And now Merlin is giving him the exact same treatment he just gave Merlin, and his hips are rocking up with need and -  _ oh _ . Merlin’s tongue skims along the waistband of his jeans, and Arthur wiggles slightly. He’s aware of Merlin thumbing his jeans open and pushing them down his legs. Arthur kicks them off the rest of the way, and Merlin palms Arthur through his boxers. Arthur bites off his gasp, teeth sinking into his lip so hard he thinks he might draw blood. Merlin slides his hand under the waistband of Arthur’s boxers, and Arthur thinks his eyes might roll back when Merlin finally -  _ finally  _ \- wraps his hand around him. The moan Arthur emits sounds wanton to his ears, but he can’t bring himself to care. All he really wants is for Merlin to be naked.   
  
And so he manages to garner enough concentration to reach over and undo Merlin’s jeans. Getting them down Merlin’s legs is not easy, since they’re so fucking tight, but Arthur manages.   
  
“What do you want?” Merlin whispers once his jeans are off.   
  
“I want to taste you,” Arthur replies.   
  
Merlin smirks. “I thought I was going to suck you off first, and then  _ maybe  _ you’d return the favor.”   
  
“I’ve changed my mind.”   
  
“What if I’d rather suck you off first?”   
  
Arthur growls and shoves Merlin onto his back. He yanks the other man’s boxers down and watches as his hard cock springs out. He kneels between Merlin’s legs and takes a cautious lick, before wrapping his lips around Merlin’s cock. Merlin gasps as his cock is engulfed in the wet-warmth of Arthur’s mouth, and Arthur thinks if he could listen to that forever he’d be perfectly happy.   
  
He bobs his head before pulling back to suck lightly on the sensitive head. He licks along the veins, and cups Merlin’s balls in his hand. They feel heavy with need, and Arthur is more than happy to relieve that need.   
  
He takes Merlin’s cock into his mouth once more, swirling his tongue and humming. Merlin’s fingers scrabble as the vibrations emanate through his bones, and his legs shake. Arthur checks his balls once more, and notices how drawn up to Merlin’s body they are. He’s close.   
  
And so Arthur works harder, drooling into the slit and sucking hard on the head because Merlin seems to like that. He takes Merlin as deep into his throat as he can, but it’s not easy because he does have a gag reflex after all, and the last thing he wants is to throw up all over Merlin. That just seems awkward.   
  
It isn’t too much longer before Merlin is letting out a cry and his cock is jerking between Arthur’s lips.   
  
Once it’s over, Arthur pulls back with a pop and flashes a very self-satisfied smile at Merlin.   
  
“Oh, fuck off, you arrogant prat,” Merlin grumbles.   
  
“I didn’t say anything.”   
  
“You didn’t have to. I know an ego the size of Russia when I see one.”   
  
Arthur laughs as Merlin pulls himself into a sitting position.   
  
“I want your boxers off,” Merlin tells him firmly.   
  
“That’s nice.”   
  
Merlin gnashes his teeth together, before once more pushing Arthur onto his back and dragging his boxers down. The next thing Arthur knows, Merlin’s mouth is on him, and he’s seeing stars. He’s aware of Merlin’s tongue sweeping across his slit, of the wet heat of his mouth, of the way the head of his cock seems to hit the back of Merlin’s throat. He feels Merlin palming his balls, and his fingers slip into Merlin’s hair as his hips rock up.   
  
And all too soon, yet not soon enough, he’s cumming in Merlin’s mouth, and it’s better than his fantasies, better than anything he could ever imagine. He feels electric; his blood is blazing, and his veins sizzle with heat.   
  
Merlin pulls back, grinning widely. He licks his lips, and it’s amazing how obscene such a simple motion can be. Arthur finds himself watching, completely mesmerized and still a little turned on, even though he literally just came.   
  
“Holy shit,” is all Arthur can come up with. “That was - that was  _ fantastic _ .”   
  
Merlin’s grin widens even more. “You’re not so bad yourself, Pendragon.”   
  
Arthur stretches out, feeling the long day begin to take its toll. The hotel room bed is soft and feels warm against his bare skin, even if the duvet is a little rough. And he needs to shower.   
  
Fuck.   
  
He eyes Merlin. “You know...I need a shower. And you need a shower. So how about we save water and shower together?”   
  
Merlin grins. “Sounds like a perfect plan to me - save the earth  _ and  _ get you naked and wet.”   
  
It sounds perfect to Arthur, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was my first time writing anything truly smutty in...quite awhile, tbh. Obviously I need to work on it, and believe me, there'll be more. But I hope I did the scene justice for Arthur and Merlin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head's up - the beginning of this chapter is all smut. I hope that's okay 😉
> 
> I'm so sorry for the late update! This story is always on my mind to some degree, but work has been extremely exhausting and actually sitting down and finishing this or even just posting it has kind of gotten shoved off my to-do list. But here's the 9th chapter...posted on March 9th. How about that? Anyway, I might not be updating this again for another couple weeks. I'm about to go into a 9 day work week with a couple of back-to-back shifts, but I'll see what I can do as far as this story goes 😊
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Less than two months before the big day! _   
  
When Arthur tries to roll over the next morning, he finds that he can’t. Instead, Merlin is snuggled up to him, playing the big spoon and holding him in place. He smiles sleepily and wiggles a little bit closer. The sheets are warm and smooth against his bare skin, and Merlin’s hand rests on his hip, holding him in place. He can definitely get used to this. Feeling Merlin’s front pressed along his back, bare skin on bare skin...it’s heavenly. He just wishes they could stay like that forever.   
  
But that’s just not going to happen.   
  
Arthur is just beginning to drift back off to sleep when he feels soft lips pressing against his shoulder blade. He lets out a little breath and feels Merlin’s tongue mapping out a trail from his right shoulder blade down to his left. The touch is warm and wet and tantalizingly delicious. And then he feels the other man pressing feather-light kisses down his spine, so soft that if Arthur was still sleeping he might not wake up. But he isn’t sleeping and he is very much awake now. His cock makes that obvious as it begins to plump out beneath the blankets.   
  
“You’re definitely starting something,” Arthur murmurs to Merlin, and is rewarded when Merlin nudges himself against Arthur’s lower back. He’s half-hard as well, and Arthur can’t keep his hips from grinding back. Merlin slides his hand around Arthur’s waist and trails his fingers down Arthur’s lower stomach, until his hand is wrapped around Arthur’s cock. It only takes a couple of leisurely strokes for Arthur to fill out the rest of the way, and Merlin lightly bites Arthur’s shoulder in what Arthur imagines is approval.   
  
“Don’t you - don’t you have to be at the hospital today?” Arthur manages to get out, though the words sound choked.   
  
“Not until 11. It’s only 8 now. We have time.”   
  
“Oh. Well, then. Carry on.”   
  
He may not be able to see Merlin’s face right now, but he knows Merlin is grinning smugly. He reaches back and pinches Merlin’s nipple in retaliation, and Merlin yelps. “Hey! You’re not playing fair!”   
  
“All’s fair in love and war, and this is a bit of both,” Arthur retorts, finally rolling over so he can face the other man.   
  
Merlin smirks. “Is that so?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Well, then.” He reaches down between their bodies, and Arthur’s eyes nearly roll back in his head when he feels Merlin wrap his hand around  _ both  _ their cocks, pressing them together. Without thinking, he hooks a leg around Merlin’s narrow hip, shifting to create some friction. Merlin hisses in appreciation as he begins stroking them both slowly, leisurely, taking his sweet time. Arthur can’t see what Merlin is doing, but he can feel it. So he’s aware when Merlin’s thumb swipes over both the heads, slicking up the digit with a mix of their precum and spreading it down both their cocks for lubrication. Arthur jerks as Merlin’s thumb massages his sensitive underside, and Merlin gasps in turn as he feels the other man’s arousal slide against his.   
  
Arthur closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against Merlin’s in a hot, filthy kiss, swiping his tongue along the other man’s teeth and tangling it with Merlin’s tongue. It barely even registers in his mind that they both have morning breath and are both in need of a shave. He doesn’t give a fuck. As long as he and Merlin are grinding against each other and Merlin’s hand is between their legs and his lips are attached to Merlin’s then that’s all that matters. A stampede of elephants could crash through the hotel room and neither man would notice.   
  
Arthur’s hips begin to rock more urgently, and he can feel himself getting close. And of course, that’s when Merlin moves his hand away. Arthur whines in protest, and Merlin breaks the kiss, smirking.   
  
“Don’t worry. I’m not done with you yet.” And then he’s yanking the blankets back and shoving Arthur onto his back. The next thing Arthur knows, Merlin is kneeling between his legs and taking him in his mouth in one fell swoop.   
  
But Arthur isn’t okay with this. So he tugs on Merlin’s hair and Merlin’s gaze flicks up to his questioningly.   
  
“I want to suck you, too,” Arthur says, nearly whining from need and desire. “At the same time.”   
  
Merlin’s eyes go wide as he realizes what Arthur’s saying. But he pulls off Arthur’s cock, lips swollen from the kiss and shiny from Arthur’s precum. He shifts his body around, and Arthur grabs Merlin’s hips, angling them until he has unerring access to the other man’s cock. He slides his hand around it and guides it to his lips, nearly swallowing him down. Merlin’s gasp resonates through his body, and Arthur would smirk if his lips weren’t being stretched out.   
  
He jerks when Merlin’s lips once more enclose around him, and he knows this is going to be much harder than he’d anticipated. He’s never done this with another man before, only with girls. Sure, he’s had sex with them, but there’s just something about 69ing that’s so fucking intimate, that’s so intense and personal, and Arthur has never been serious enough about another man to want to do it. But with Merlin anything goes. He doesn’t care, he just wants Merlin forever and ever.   
  
He’s aware of Merlin bobbing his head, taking him deeper, and growls around Merlin’s cock in frustration when he feels his own tip brush against Merlin’s throat. He traces the veins on Merlin’s length with his tongue, dragging it out slowly, teasingly, until he’s awarded with a palpable shiver coursing its way through Merlin’s body. Merlin retaliates by cupping his balls. Arthur pulls back just enough so that he’s sucking hard on the head.   
  
Merlin pops off Arthur’s cock to look upside down at the other man with what Arthur supposes is a raised eyebrow.   
  
Arthur raises his own eyebrows, licking over Merlin’s slit.   
  
“You’re a fucking tease,” Merlin growls, and Arthur thinks if there was any blood left in any other part of his body, the rest of it would be rushing south right about now. He’s never heard Merlin growl like that. He likes it. A lot.   
  
“I’m not the only one,” Arthur replies sweetly, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s tip.   
  
“Hmmph.” Merlin goes back to work, once more swallowing Arthur’s cock up, and Arthur returns the favor.   
  
With both men working hard to get the other one off, it’s not long before they’re both swelling and jerking in the other’s mouth. Arthur finishes first, but Merlin is seconds behind him. Arthur has to adjust his head slightly to swallow Merlin’s cum, because he’s not about to just spit it out onto the duvet, but he also doesn’t want to choke.    
  
Merlin collapses on top of Arthur, his ass in Arthur’s face. Arthur doesn’t mind one bit. He absentmindedly trails his fingers over Merlin’s cheeks, enjoying the soft keening noises Merlin is making.   
  
“That was incredible,” Arthur says softly. “That was - I’ve never done that before.”   
  
“You did that last night,” Merlin grunts, cheek resting on Merlin’s leg.   
  
“I meant  _ that _ . At the same time. With another man.”   
  
“Oh. Well, we’ll be doing it a lot,” Merlin informs him. “That was too good not to do it as often as possible.”   
  
Arthur rolls his eyes but can’t fight the grin spreading across his face. “Deal.”   
  
Because Arthur has to work, it’s decided that Arthur will stay in the hotel room while Merlin is sitting with Gaius at the hospital. It’s probably for the best, since Gaius is still very weak, and the last thing Arthur wants to do is put added pressure on the older man by forcing him to make small talk with a stranger. And so Arthur and Merlin drag themselves away from the bed and into the shower.   
  
It’s a good thing they’ve got some spare time, because taking a shower together turns out to be a very bad idea. Even though they’ve both just cum and they are  _ not  _ horny teenagers, they manage to work each other up into a hormonal frenzy through careful use of washcloths, and it isn’t long before Arthur is jerking them both off under the shower head, Merlin clinging to him as he mewls into Arthur’s neck.   
  
“Oh my god, you’ve turned me into a nympho,” Merlin groans as they work to clean themselves up after they both finish.   
  
“ _ I’ve _ turned  _ you  _ into a nympho?” Arthur quirks an eyebrow. “You’re the one who insisted on cleaning me up yourself - and then paying way too much attention to my - “   
  
“Yes,” Merlin cuts him off, “but you’re the one who started the whole thing, back in January.”   
  
“Back in - “ Arthur pauses. “Back in Gwen’s and Lancelot’s flat?”   
  
“Yes. When you made that comment about not doing me.”   
  
It feels like so long ago. But with a sudden rush of warmth in his veins, Arthur realizes that that’s the moment this all began. “Yes, but you said I’d beg you for it.”   
  
“And you just had to get the last word in, didn’t you?” Merlin teases, standing so close to Arthur under the shower spray that Arthur can see every drop of water clinging to his lashes. His whole body is pressed flush against Arthur’s, his lips mere centimeters from the other man’s. “You just couldn’t let it drop. You are one stubborn, arrogant prat.”   
  
“I’m not the only one. You’re the one who kept flirting with me,” Arthur reminds him.   
  
“I know. There was just something about you...I couldn’t seem to stop. I’d send all these texts and be wondering what the fuck I was doing. And then you’d respond, and I’d just keep going. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I still can’t.”   
  
Arthur growls and clamps his mouth against Merlin’s, hard and hot and possessive, until Merlin is whimpering into the kiss, fingers scrabbling at Arthur’s bare shoulders and arms.   
  
It takes a long time for them to get out of the shower.   


* * *

The rest of the day passes by peacefully. Arthur works from the hotel room, occasionally texting Merlin, who’s sitting with Gaius. Merlin is at the hospital until 5pm, when Gaius’s friend from yesterday shows up to take over for the next few hours. Merlin drives back to the hotel, where he picks Arthur up. They eat at a nearby cafe, before returning to the hotel for another night of fooling around and sleeping in the other’s arms.   
  
Thursday is much of the same. Merlin stays with him overnight at the hotel, where they spend the evening and the following morning exploring the other’s bodies and working each other up until they’re shaking with need. And then Merlin departs for the hospital, while Arthur works from the hotel. But on Friday he’s completed most of his work, and Merlin tells him that Gaius and Hunith are both asking about Arthur. They want to meet him. And so this time Arthur accompanies Merlin to the hospital, stomach churning with nerves.   
  
Hunith has been at the hospital since 8am, and she meets Merlin and Arthur in the hospital canteen at 11, where she’s fixing herself a cup of coffee. She doesn’t look much like Merlin, except for her eyes. They have the same depth, intelligence, and sparkle as Merlin’s.   
  
She smiles when she spots the two men, and Merlin’s fingers tighten in Arthur’s, dragging him over to his mother excitedly.   
  
“This is Arthur!” he exclaims, and Hunith’s smile widens at her son’s obvious excitement. She nearly has to pry Merlin’s fingers away from Arthur’s so she can shake his hand.   
  
“It’s very nice to meet you, Arthur.” Her eyes glitter mischievously when she says, “Merlin has told me so much about you. He’s talked about you constantly.”   
  
Despite the fact that just two hours ago Merlin was sucking Arthur off in the shower, Merlin’s cheeks light up like fireworks. “Mu-um!” he whines. “I do not.”   
  
“Yes you do,” Hunith replies with a small smirk. “All the damn time. Come along, let’s go and see Gaius.”   
  
She leads the way to the elevator, and they pile in, Merlin’s cheeks still burning and Arthur biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like a dumbass.   
  
Hunith makes small talk with him on the short ride up, and on the way down the hospital corridor to Gaius’s room. Arthur responds easily, noting how sweet and friendly she is, just like her son. Even though she’s his - what? - boyfriend’s? - mother, he feels comfortable with her.   
  
And then they reach Gaius’s room, and Hunith opens the door.   
  
An older man reclines in the bed. With his straggly white hair and perpetually wrinkled face, he looks like the grumpy old man who gets dragged along on quests in fantasy books, much to his displeasure. But when he smiles at his family, his faded eyes light up with love and adoration.   
  
And then that gaze falls onto Arthur.   
  
“You must be the young man I’ve heard so much about,” Gaius says, and he smiles. His whole face is suddenly transformed from that of a persnickety old man to a kind and gentle soul.   
  
“I sure hope so,” Arthur replies with a smile of his own and a teasing glance in Merlin’s direction, and everyone laughs.   
  
“Come, sit down,” Gaius urges Merlin and Arthur, and they take seats beside his bed. “Merlin tells me you two have actually known each other for something like a decade?”   
  
“About ten years, yeah,” Arthur confirms. “We met in uni, but didn’t, uh…”   
  
“We didn’t get along,” Merlin explains. “Opposites and all that.”   
  
“Yes, but opposites attract,” Gaius points out, eyes twinkling as he looks at the younger men. “Clearly they attract, or else you two would not be both sitting here right now.”   
  
“We were both dating other people,” Merlin says with a shrug. “I actually thought Arthur was straight for the first year we knew each other, because he kept going out with girls. It was only when he started dating a friend of a friend - a guy - that I realized that he’s bi. So it’s not like I even knew I had a chance the first year.”   
  
Arthur frowns at Merlin. “I didn’t realize you had no clue I was bi at first.”   
  
“Oh yeah, it never even occurred to me. Usually my gaydar is fantastic, but it just seemed to blow up every time I got around you. I think...well, I think it’s because a part of me desperately wanted you to be into guys, but I was sure it wasn’t possible. I was too close to the situation so…” He shrugs. “I had no chance of it.”   
  
“Oh.” Arthur bites down on his bottom lip, deep in thought. “To be honest, I always kind of wondered why you never seemed interested in me. It never even occurred to me that you had no idea that I was into guys.”   
  
“Yeah, it wasn’t even a possibility I ever really thought about. At least, not really.” Merlin’s cheeks flush red, and Arthur feels his lips twitch. He definitely wants details about how he did think about Arthur possibly being into guys, but it’s going to have to wait until later.   
  
“How long are you staying for?” Gaius asks Arthur as he props himself up into a sitting position.   
  
Arthur tries not to wince at the question. It’s something he hasn’t put a lot of thought into, even though he knows the answer. He just doesn’t want to consider it. “I’m leaving Sunday morning, because I fly out for a business trip on Monday.”   
  
“So you’re here one more full day,” Gaius confirms. “I hope you’re enjoying the beauty of Ealdor?”   
  
“It’s gorgeous. I’d love to stay longer. I wish I could.”   
  
Merlin shifts beside him, trying to hide a pleased smile behind his hand.   
  
“Ealdor is one of the oldest villages in Wales,” Gaius tells Arthur. “Over a thousand years old. At one point it only had a population of a couple dozen people. But as time has gone on, it has grown. It’s still tiny, especially compared to London, but it’s certainly come into itself.”   
  
“I love it. It seems so peaceful compared to London.”   
  
“It certainly is,” Gaius agrees. “It certainly is.”


End file.
